Unsure

I’m unsure why my visit to plant flowers on the graves of my wife Cindy, my parents, her parents, and both my maternal and paternal grandparents affected me so much this year. As I drove through the Indian Creek Baptist Cemetery among the headstones, I noticed the hundreds of American flags that waved over the graves long before I arrived to the spot where I parked. Many of these veterans who rest here are names and faces that I knew. I felt a lump start in my throat as I unloaded my car.

The first site I addressed was my wife, Cindy’s. I wiped the dust and grass clippings off black marble tombstone. It brought back memories for me ordering it and designing the design and carvings. Cindy’s heritage was Scottish and I created the pattern for a Celtic cross intertwined with the blooms of the Scottish thistle. My name, her name, and our wedding date grace the surface of the stone. After watering the plants, I moved to her parents’ grave, Retha and Elmer Morrison to plant flowers there. Next, I walked to my grandparents’ marker, Ray and Rebecca Miner. I planted pansies and geraniums; my gram’s favorites.

I had to wander searching for my parents’ headstone. It was farther down among the tombstones in the cemetery. As I drew near to the area where I knew it was located, I saw the American flag that the American Legion placed there in honor of my father, Carl Beck. Tears filled my eyes and I stifled a sob as I stared at the names engraved in its gray surface, Edson C. Beck and Sybil J. Beck. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I hurried back to the spot I’d left the shovel, flowers, and water. After I was finished planting, I gathered my tools and drove to my grandparent Edson T. and Anna N. Beck’s burial plot in the Donegal Cemetery. It was easier to find, because of the funeral of my aunt Dorothy.

It was a beautiful day to complete the task, warm and sunny and soon chased away those unsure feelings of sadness.