Visiting the Cemetery

Jael had not yet been to the cemetery where Dad is buried. We decide to take a field trip, stopping at Agway to get a red geranium, Gram Appleby's favorite flower. Mom packs a trowel, grass clippers, knee pads, a jug of water and a pail. We head out.

There is a gas leak along the Northway, and we are detoured through town, taking hours to creep along the crowded streets. We finally get clear of the traffic snarl and navigate toward Albany Rural Cemetery. Lots of well known people are buried there - so many that they give tours. But we are interested in only the Appleby family plot, #200. My own little 6' x 3' piece of land is nearby, there being no room in the family site to squeeze one more person.

After several missed turns and false directions, we find the right place. The government has placed a lovely bronze plaque on my father's gravesite in honor of his military service. It's very becoming. We check the family headstone to see that Dad's death date has been chiseled in properly, and it has. Then we plant the flower, cut the grass, trim the frazzled bushes, and chat about who is where.

I wander over a hundred yards or so to find my space. Jael comes to look as well. I try to talk her into getting a space there before even the few little unclaimed spots are snapped up. She is not ready yet to think about such things. We take pictures of the plaque and the marker and the newly planted flower. Jael's camera is on the fritz. Mom's works just fine, and I use my phone.

Afterwards, we head to the Cheesecake Factory for lunch on the patio where the wind is a bit too frisky for comfort. Its a beautiful sunny day with summer blue skies though, and we don't mind a bit of wind. We are like three best friends on holiday. The time melts away. When at last we return to the quaint A frame in Lake George, the day is spent. We are tired, but satisfied that we have done what was needed. Dad is safely tucked in and we are free to move on.

As for me, I have to drive home in order to be in church for Sunday service. But it will be a pleasant drive. Much has been accomplished. My heart is filled with comfort. My book on tape is entertaining, and I glide along, happy that I was able to manage all on my own. Happy Birthday, Dad. I know you are in a wonderful place. Love ya, and don't worry about Mom. She is doing great.