Looking At Rocks

There is a little white church on a main road in town that I have noticed ever since I have lived here. Not because of the church building but because of the little cemetery that is beside it. It is small and looks old. I used to wonder if it was even a place that has any more room. Is it currently used? Well, a few years ago I discovered that it is in fact still used. Infact, it would be used by me. One of our lost babies is buried in that cemetery.

Now, I am not a person that wants or needs to visit their loved ones' graves on a regular basis - I know that they are not there. Until my baby was laid to rest in that little cemetery I did not understand that people don't necessarily go to "visit" their loved ones. They go to remember. To take a moment to morn... maybe at a time that it does not make sense to anyone else in this world that they should still be sad. That empty, lonely place is a place that it is okay to still grieve. Well, a week or two ago I had a moment like that. I needed to be sad, and I needed to do it there at that cemetery. I didn't realize it until Cooper and I were driving past it, and I looked toward the back of the little cemetery at the tombstone like I always do as I drive by. This time though, I had a need to go have a moment near it. Just for a minute. Corey and I have gone there once together, and I have driven the kids by there once or twice, but beyond that no one in our family has "needed" to go there. Except me. As I sat by the little grave marker, I was reminded of what was lost and how because of that loss I know to appriciate the children that I have here on Earth on a deeper level than I ever did before. Cooper was unusually quiet as I sat and thought. Then, he said, "What are we doing Mommy? Looking at rocks?"

If only that is all that we were doing...