Mom and Moni, Goshen Cemetery, May 29, 2010

It's really strange to see you name on a tombstone, even if it's on the back. I remember as a little girl being at the cemetery with my parents and wandering, looking at all the names. I cried when I saw the babies and was amazed when I found whole families. I liked looking at the names and thinking about the people who belonged to those names. I knew my grandparents and was sad when they passed away, but still I was very young and didn't really understand how it all worked.

It's just a little different now. I still don't understand everything, but I feel the anguish much more deeply. Now it's hard to see my sweet daddy's name carved into stone and know that he's really gone. Yes, I know I'll see him again. I really, truly know that, but it doesn't make it any easier that I don't get to hear his voice, hold his hand with his paper-thin skin, or kiss his whiskery cheek.

It's very strange to see my mom's name carved into stone when she's still here, and I'm so glad that she is. We've talked about the fact that one of these days, we won't have any reason to go back to my hometown. There won't be any family there, and Mom and Dad won't even be buried there. Life is so weird. Why does dying have to be part of it?