Changes At Arlington Cemetery

A cemetery is an intimate place.

For me, it is a place where I let down my guard and become vulnerable to my feelings.  Sometimes I raise my arms to the sky as if saying that I am ready to let it all wash over me but other times I sit silently and close my eyes and try to center my thoughts.

 

In the summertime when I visit my husband's grave, I sometimes love to lay in the grass that covers where he is buried.  As I lay on my back looking up at the sky, I love to let my hands run through the blades of grass and feel the warmth of the sun envelope me knowing that some part of him is underneath me.

I don't do this every time I go there but when I do I find it to be comforting.

Isn't that the whole point of going to a cemetery?  To find comfort, to try and put yourself back together, to heal and to also find some measure of peace?

I talk to my husband while I am visiting there and I also leave things near his marker that I know he liked, such as cookies and shells from the beach.  It's my way of  telling him that I am thinking of him and I'm still caring about him.  It's an emotional connection that gives me strength.

I was reminded of the healing role of my many cemetery visits while reading a touching Washington Post story yesterday about Section 60 in the Arlington National Cemetery in Virginia.  The story reported that the small treasures and personal mementos people have routinely left at their loved ones graves for months is now being collected by the cemetery's workers and taken away.

Arlington National Cemetery
www.arlingtoncemetery.mil

Section 60 hold special significance because that is where more than 800 recently deceased Iraq and Afghanistan war dead are buried and the pain of each relative's grief is still new and raw.  Arlington National Cemetery is one of the nation's oldest cemeteries and within its 624 acres lies more than 14,000 veterans, including some who fought in the Civil War.

For many, many months, loved ones personalized the stark gravestones of their spouses, children and friends with pictures, balloons, dog tags, handmade trinkets, holiday decorations and love letters as they try to find some kind of answer to the searing heartbreak they feel about their special person's death.

 

But the cemetery has changed its mind and is now collecting anything left at the gravesites.  Arlington cemetery's executive director plans to meet with the families of the deceased this Sunday to discuss the new policy of cleaning up section 60. 

It seems that from the Army's point of view, the cemetery needs to stay clean and look just like every other part of Arlington Cemetery but for the families, the disarray of the personal belongings left at the gravesites reinforced their love, their unwavering bond with their loved one and reflected their shattered dreams.

This link will take you to The Washington Post story, headline, "Another Death, Another Loss":

http://www.washingtonpost.com/national/cleanup-in-arlington-national-cemeterys-section-60-upsets-families-of-war-dead/2013/10/01/ec5de34e-2ac4-11e3-97a3-ff2758228523_story.html?tid=auto_complete

An Emotional Box

As I continue to slowly reorganize my freshly painted bedroom, it is amazing the things you find stored under your bed.

 

Last week I wrote about my long put-off decision to finally paint and reorganize my bedroom following my husband's death.  Now, as I pick and choose what I am bringing back into that room, I am dealing with some of the things that I pushed aside and choose not to think about.

 

In this instance, it is an old Estee Lauder box that once held cosmetics and perfume.  I loved the different colored berries pictured on the outside of the box and so I kept it and filled it with special things that I wanted to keep together in one place.

 

 

 

 

When my son was born, I put all the cards that people mailed to us in that box and then I continued to fill the box with birthday and holiday cards that he received as a child and various art projects that he did when he was in pre-school.

 

OMG, it is so precious!  When I opened the box, I just sat there and stared at it for a long time.

 

It's quite the emotional box; full of hopes, dreams, expectations, love and all the sweetness that I felt with the birth of my son and his early years as a toddler.  I went on a trip when I opened that box, a trip where I met myself and my husband some twenty-odd years ago.  We weren't young parents but we were a lot younger then and we had a new little baby boy and we were full of love, love, love and oblivious to the idea that it could ever, ever change.

 

I brought the box to my son, my "baby" who is now in his twenties, and showed him what I had found.  I took the cards out, one by one, opening them up and reading the kind messages and telling him about the friends and family that had sent these amazing cards when he was born and the other cards that came to him on Halloween, Valentine's Day and other birthdays.  He was fascinated that I had saved all these things and I was too.

 

In a way, I wished I hadn't saved all these sentimental momentos.  They were from another time, a time when there was three of us.  It's only been my son and I after my husband's death and sometimes it feels as though it's always been that way.  Or at least my mind tricks me into thinking that sometimes. 

 

But the cards are proof of a different family and different people.

 

I don't mean that in a bad way or even a sad way.  It was just different.

 

Finding the box led me and my son to talking and reminiscing about the people who sent the cherished cards and telling stories about them.  As we laughed and I answered his questions, I remembered things that I hadn't thought about in years and at the same time I felt the responsibility of being the only parent.  Since his father is no longer alive, I really wanted to remember everything I could to let him know what that time was like when he was an infant and toddler.

 

There are a lot of times as a single parent that you have to be both mother and father.  Discipline and financial decisions immediately come to mind as examples.  That isn't always a great role to fill and those are the times when you wish you had someone else to share the responsibility with.

But this time I was happy to talk to him for hours about the immense happiness that his birth brought to us, his mother and his father, and continues to bring to me. 

 

That's What Friends Are For

 

 

 

 

This past weekend I met up with three of my best girlfriends to celebrate my recent birthday.

 

I have known these special women for decades and we have been through a lot with each other and for each other.  Birthdays, weddings, funerals, break-ups, new jobs, new houses, vacations -- we have been through it all! 

 

The beauty of being friends for a long time is that you don't have to explain everything.  One person can mention a certain situation or a person's name and we know right away what that means.  We know the things that make us laugh and the things that drive us crazy.

We always celebrate each other's birthdays and this time we went to a small French cafe in Georgetown for brunch.  It was misty and rainy outside and the inside of the restaurant was quiet and cozy.  No one was in a hurry and we settled in for a few hours and just enjoyed each other's company.

What a treat!!!!

Each one of my friends is a treasure and I love all of my girlfriends.  Real friends are made one at a time and sometimes through a shared activity.  I have some special friends I have gotten to know because our sons went to school together and I have other friends I have made through work and volunteering. They are the butter on my bread, the icing on my cupcakes.  They are the people that I cry, laugh and heal with.

All of them add that extra special something that makes me pause and say to myself, "I am lucky to know her and have her as a friend."

I find that my friends provide a layer of protection against life's setbacks and disasters.  I try to comfort and listen to their ups and downs as they do for me.  A true friend is a connection to life.

Friends care about what is going on in your life and with them you can always be yourself.  You can spill out your thoughts, even when they don't make any sense, and your friends take the time to figure it all out and make you feel that it's okay.  Or in my case, sometimes my friends put me back on the right track when I have lost my way....Thank goodness for that!!!!!

I need hugs and smiles and laughter.  I think we all do. 

When we isolate ourselves, we lose an essential connection to people and psychologists report that cutting yourself off from people can make you sick because you keep all of your feelings and thoughts locked inside and your body can't take it.  Your immune system can become compromised and other conditions such as heart disease can develop.

Thank you my special, extraordinary friends and my great readers for being there and for being your wonderful selves!!!

As the saying goes, you have to be a friend to have a friend!!!!
 

Getting A Life

"Get a life. A real life, not a manic pursuit of the next promotion, the bigger paycheck, the larger house. Do you think you'd care so very much about those things if you blew an aneurysm one afternoon, or found a lump in your breast? Get a life in which you notice the smell of salt water pushing itself on a breeze over Seaside Heights, a life in which you stop and watch how a red-tailed hawk circles over the water gap or the way a baby scowls with concentration when she tries to pick up a cheerio with her thumb and first finger.

Get a life in which you are not alone. Find people you love, and who love you. And remember that love is not leisure, it is work. Each time you look at your diploma, remember that you are still a student, still learning how to best treasure your connection to others. Pick up the phone. Send an e-mail. Write a letter. Kiss your Mom. Hug your Dad. Get a life in which you are generous."

 

                                             ~ Excerpt from Anna Quindlen's Villanova Commencement Speech, 2000

 

 

 

Baby Practices Picking Up Cheerios

 

 

I worked a few hours in the office yesterday and then was able to leave early.  I didn't feel guilty at all about cutting the work day short.  I was looking forward to meeting my son at the movies.  We saw "Les Miserables" and I enjoyed it but I prefer the stage version of the iconic story about the French Revolution.

 

While waiting in the lobby, I let my mind wander and watched the cold, rainy weather outside.  I could feel my shoulders relax as I looked up at the clear slanted ceiling and my eyes followed the sliding raindrops down the glass.  After a few minutes, my mind seemed to empty of office concerns and I starting thinking about the importance of mentally and physically breaking from my work schedule.

 

I could work all the time if I wanted to.  Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with work and I am happy to have my job.  I have a strong work ethic and get a lot of satisfaction from doing my job and doing it well.  But there comes a point when you need to recharge and you can't do that if you are always working and always pushing yourself to do more work.

I find that working constantly starts to make me inefficient.  I start to get tired, I get headaches easily and I start to answer people in a short manner.   When I start experiencing those symptoms, I know it's time to take a break and do some of the things that Anna Quindlen suggests in her quote above: pick up the phone, call a friend or a family member, write an email, connect with another person.

I need to work to support myself financially but I also need to remember -- especially during the holidays -- to take a break and enjoy the treasures of my life.