Oddity

I got a call yesterday, asking for help in getting a chest of drawers from point D home to A. Off I went - into a new area for me. As in... well, it was about 12 miles from home, but felt like I was going to need my passport. On and on I drove, wondering if I'd missed my rendezvous point, wondering where in the world people in those housing areas worked that such a long drive wasn't a problem. Wondering about how they could afford such a commute - and why they'd want such a long drive.

After picking up the furniture, my friend offered to buy me lunch/dinner in return for my 'trouble.' Okay-fine. Sure. Whatever.  I agreed to follow her back home, and into whatever place she wanted to get food. I figured she'd go for fast food stuff (wrong), but was astonished when she turned off into a cemetery. I knew immediately that she was going to visit her husband/best friend's grave, and offered to go with her.

I've been to cemeteries all over Europe - something many of us do. I'm always astonished at how many Americans I'll see at a European cemetery when we avoid them at home. I'd not been in state when this friend buried her husband (and my dear friend), so I didn't know where he was. I was shaken when she led me to a quiet spot... covered with withering weeds, still a scar on the otherwise grassy ground. No marker yet (how long does it take to get a marker made??), simply three largish stones at the head of the grave. And she broke down.

Bad week, she said. She'd been getting holiday cards addressed to Mr/Mrs, and each one was a body blow. Some fool had asked her why she was still wearing her wedding ring. She didn't know what to do with the cards - I told her to pass them to me and I'd take care of it - I'd write a note telling them of his death and send it, simply give her a list of names/addresses of the senders. She was hurt that anyone would forget him so quickly, that they would expect her to remove her ring (and thus him) from her public life. Her tears lasted maybe 90 seconds, but they were wrenching for her - and I hope cathartic.

She told me she'd read somewhere of a Jewish custom of leaving a stone on a grave to acknowledge that the person had touched a life. "I'm not Jewish, but I like that custom. It's comforting when you see that somebody else remembers him." I told her that it wasn't simply a Jewish custom - that I'd seen it in in Jewish and non-Jewish cemeteries all over Europe. She liked that, and noted that she'd placed two of the stones, and had no idea who'd placed the third. But that it gave her comfort. (I felt like a heel that I hadn't brought one, and that if I went out then and found a pebble (which is what I've seen elsewhere) it would look forced and insincere.)

The oddity? I found comfort out there too; and want to go back, tend that grave (why haven't the caretakers of the cemetery cleared those weeds? Why haven't they laid grass?) I want to take pebbles, and leave them. And I noticed that most of the markers out there are designed for the ease of maintenance - the caretakers can go out with a riding lawnmower and just zip right over the graves and their markers. But that also means that any pebbles will be cleared without thought, that larger items will be swept up and away, denying families that comfort. We have such odd practices here.