Last weekend was a rare opportunity for AJ and I to do whatever we wanted for the whole weekend...no prior commitments, no call, no rounds, no early morning running groups beckoning. We recieved notice from the cemetary that Elise's memorial had been installed and made plans to visit. I hadn't been there in months...probably since soon after she died; AJ had gone once by himself.
It was good. The plaque was perfect and the setting serene...a beautiful winter day, probably nearly 50 degress with sun. We sat on the grass near her grave back to back and cried and chatted and wondered. AJ's thoughts were existential, "Why did this happen to her (us)?" while mine were more mundane, "I wonder what she would be like, cranky, happy, difficult, easy." Neither of us had any answers, but it was good to talk aloud.
And then I watched as AJ cleaned the memorial with a towel and water from the car. He took such care to trace the granite indentations and remove the traces of dirt that had lodged at the edges of the stone. I watched with such sadness as the surgeon's hands, so accustomed to the delciate work of cutting tissue and sewing stitches, expertly, lovingly cleaned our daughter's gravestone.
It was really all we could do for her and, as is so characteristic of my husband, he put his energies into doing it right.
I thought about her earthly body, morbid I know, but I couldn't help it...but I also thought about her heavenly body and kept telling myself that she is the lucky one. She's the one with Jesus in the place where we all want to be. It sounds so simple, doesn't it? Too simple? But it's what I have, what I am trying, so hard, to believe.
It was good. The plaque was perfect and the setting serene...a beautiful winter day, probably nearly 50 degress with sun. We sat on the grass near her grave back to back and cried and chatted and wondered. AJ's thoughts were existential, "Why did this happen to her (us)?" while mine were more mundane, "I wonder what she would be like, cranky, happy, difficult, easy." Neither of us had any answers, but it was good to talk aloud.
And then I watched as AJ cleaned the memorial with a towel and water from the car. He took such care to trace the granite indentations and remove the traces of dirt that had lodged at the edges of the stone. I watched with such sadness as the surgeon's hands, so accustomed to the delciate work of cutting tissue and sewing stitches, expertly, lovingly cleaned our daughter's gravestone.
It was really all we could do for her and, as is so characteristic of my husband, he put his energies into doing it right.
I thought about her earthly body, morbid I know, but I couldn't help it...but I also thought about her heavenly body and kept telling myself that she is the lucky one. She's the one with Jesus in the place where we all want to be. It sounds so simple, doesn't it? Too simple? But it's what I have, what I am trying, so hard, to believe.
5 comments:
Hi Stephanie and AJ,
I spoke with your mama yesterday evening and have been thinking about you.
I am here at work on a snowy Sunday morning and thought I would check your messages.
I am inspired by you. As a couple and each in your own way honor Elise. Life has so many lessons to teach... joyous ones and ones of great pain and sorrow. The pessimist I am, I don't think that things happen for a reason. I think they just happen. We choose to allow those happenings to make or break us.
AJ and you have so much love both for each other and to give to this world. Reading your words this morning, I thought about my grandmother who died at 98. She lost her first child, a daughter named Catherine, in the 1918 influenza epidemic. The baby was 18 months old. My grandmother had 8 more children who all lived to adulthood.
Even though her 16 grandchildren did not know a lot about my grandparents' early married life, we all know that there was a baby named Catherine.
When my grandmother was dying, my mother told me she was calling out to Catherine, reliving the pain of the loss of that child. Her children never knew until that moment the overwhelming emotions their mother experienced at the death of her first born daughter. I guess some pain you just keep in heart until it bubbles out.
I know from your messages that you worry about not honoring Elise's memory. Whatever good you do in this life will have been impacted by your time with Elise, all nine months and 4 days of it.
Bless you both. Judy
Stephanie, your entry is beautiful. Truly. Your description of AJ brought tears to my eyes and reminded me what a good couple you are.
Judy's comment says it all, so very well.
mama
I dont have any great words...just sending hugs to you both
thankyou. you both continue to amaze & inspire me.
Stephanie and AJ,
I think your description of this trip is so fitting of the way both of you are and the way you approach life.
You both like to put your energies into doing things right. You can't help but be that way, it's just the way you are. And that's why we all love you so much.
From the way that you announced your pregnancy with Elise--in handwritten letters to each of us instead of the casual breezy email or phone call that most people would use--to your loving care of her memory now, your love and care are just so evident.
If it's a parent's job to love unconditionally, then by golly you two are doing that job well.
Love you so!
Rosie
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