We spent most of today running errands and doing some shopping. But, there was an hour in the middle of all of that when I stole the car and went to the cemetery alone. I trudged my way through the 7'' of snow that's still on the ground to get to Jason's graveside. I stood there in silence for a few minutes until a breeze began to blow across my face.
That's when I started to cry. That breeze almost felt like the breath of someone standing next to me, and for a split second, I looked to see if anyone was there. There was no one. I spoke to Jason and told him how much I miss him. Not a day goes by...no. Not an hour goes by that I don't think of him, miss him, long for him, and love him. He's been gone for nearly seven months yet the love I felt for him the day he died hasn't gone away. It never will. If anything, I'd say it's gotten stronger.
Some might say that's not a good thing. Some might say that the more time that passes from a loved one's death, love shouldn't grow stronger. Sure, it will never go away... but growth might lead one to believe that I'm far from getting over him. So what if I am? Who's right is it to say? No one.
I stood there talking to him for what seemed like an hour. I walked around to the back side of the stone where his name is engraved. I touched it with my hand. I could feel the cold granite through my glove, and it made me cry. I spoke about this in a previous blog when I was here and the stone was just put up. There's something about seeing his name etched into that stone that just kills me. It's so hard to see. It's so hard to look at. Every time I look at it, I have this war in my head...because one half of my mind doesn't believe it and the other half is screaming for the other half to accept it. It still just doesn't seem real.
After about 30 minutes, I couldn't feel my face anymore (It didn't get above 25 today), so I started to leave. I stood in front of his grave one more time and pleaded with him to show me a sign that he's with me on this trip. I told him I needed to know that he's with us...that he's celebrating Christmas with his family. Sobbing by now, I finally turned to leave. I got in the car, switched it on, and I got my sign. As soon as I turned the car on, the song that had been playing on the radio finished and Feliz Navidad came on (Read my previous post about this song).
I heard the first three notes of the song and I immediately began to laugh. I knew that was him. I knew he was saying "Ok, here's your stupid sign." I sat there in the car parked in the cemetery directly in front of his grave and laughed, sang along, and danced in my seat. I knew he was sitting right next to me in that car. The song ended, but I didn't leave. I sat there for another 15 minutes texting some friends a picture I took of his grave (picture below). I said a few more things to him, and then I drove off. No more tears. He's here.
Until next time--
Stuart
He looks festive, doesn't he?
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