Her "Place" as we call it, was painful to visit in the beginning. It was heavy and depressing and I would spend a lot of time crying there. I would often visit alone, while Kate was in preschool, taking advantage of the quiet time to ponder my grief. I would bring a blanket, and would roll up like a burrito and lay down next to her special spot on the hill.
When we would visit as a family, we would leave frustrated because Kate always chose that time to be hungry, tired,
thirsty, or have to go to the bathroom. It seemed like we were always
telling her to "stop crying and just be quiet for a minute!" Looking
back, of course she must have felt our heavy sadness that was hard to
hide when we visited. It was her way of dealing with being in a place
that made her parents visually sad.
Her place began to take on a new role in my grief after about 6 months. I began to look forward to, and enjoy my time there. It was somewhere I could go, to feel close to her. It was time I could take out of my day that was just for Ruby. It was also the only place where I felt like I could physically care for something connected to her.
As our hearts began to be lighter, her place became happier. We started to share favorite memories of her, sing songs together, and enjoy the sunshine on our faces. We would often visit on a Sunday afternoon, and would lay on the blanket together. Kate started to feel more comfortable there, and even "adopted" a few other Angel's Places to care for. She would always make sure the leafs were swept off markers, and potted plans turned upright after a windy day.
One day, after an afternoon of sun and swimming this Summer, Kate and I decided on a whim to stop by to check on Ruby's Place. I was just going to jump out of the car to put a few things up, but Kate decided she wanted to get out as well. She was barefoot, and still in her swim suit, and even had goggles on her forehead. There happen to be a hose nearby that was spraying water through a sprinkler attached to water some dry grass. Kate looked at me, and then looked at the sprinkler, and then back to me again. I looked around the grounds, and when I realized we were the only visitors, and that the spot was unused and free of any markers, I gave her a nod, giving her permission to run around in the sprinkler. I sat on a bench in the shade, and watched my little girl feel perfectly happy and content to be playing in a cemetery. It made me giggle at first, and then tears filled my eyes as I realized that Ruby had to of been running right along side her sister in that moment. I was so glad that Kate felt comfortable there, because I know that this is where she will come to feel near Ruby as the years go on as well.
Today Kate and I visited again. It is a cool crisp day, and under the shade of her tree we cleaned up her spot, and hung the flag with her picture on it. Kate pulled me into the sunshine, grabbed my hands, and we sang "Ring Around the Rosies!" and turned in circles laughing. We had a race down the hill and back, and ran around her tree chasing each other. When my lingering morning sickness crept up on me, I suggested we get going, but Kate said, "Not yet! I like it here!"
We have picnicked there. We have done service projects there. We have met life long friends there. We have cried and laughed and sobbed there. We have attended candle light services, and even a few funerals there. We have prayed there. We have learned there. We feel Ruby there.
"Ruby's
Place" is our place now. It feels like an extension of our home. Of
course, every time I enter through the big green gates I silently hate
that we are there in the first place, but I am happy that it has become
a place of peace for our family. We have some of the darkest and
loneliest of times there, but also some of the most spiritual and
peaceful of times as well.
I
know that Ruby is near when we are there, with her mighty and beautiful
spirit feeling sorrow and joy and yearning right along with ours.
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