It is my 'ritual of arrival.' Before stopping in front of The Little House I go to the cemetery to visit Joanne. Given the exceptionally wet summer her marker is always covered with grass clippings. The amount of debris that has accumulated in two weeks makes it look as if it's been a year. Annual grave maintenance is totally inadequate...it is a must for me every time I'm here. It's important for me but I also know Joanne would be pleased. Having a place in which to do this ritual is helpful to me. Her choice to be buried here makes me very glad.
The Little House welcomes me. After a good romp Trygve is curled up on his dog bed next to me. Joanne's empty chair faces me reminding me of the joy she found snuggled into it while reading a good book. The Lazyboy fit her well and sometimes when her persistent cough kept her awake she'd leave her bed and sleep in it. The presence of absence is poignant but there are many good memories to cherish...."no they cannot take that away from me."
Takk for alt,
Al
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