Gravesites and Memories
Mom threw a drama fit yesterday saying her mother’s birthday is today and she needed to go see her grave. Unable to say no, I drove her to Franklinton this morning, where we laid a black pebble on my grandmother’s tombstone. The grave is in front of my uncle’s house and his grave is next to hers. Someone put a porcelain photograph of my grandmother – Mae – on the tombstone and in it she is smiling a devilish smile. Warmed my heart to see her face, and made me long for younger years when a visit to those parts included a big warm hug from her.
We next went to my grandfather’s grave, which is down the road a ways. She pointed a shotgun at him a long time ago and told him to get out of the house after catching him with another woman. Another woman that he went on to live the rest of his life with and who loved him like the rising sun.
In that graveyard were scattered many small tombstones that read “Infant Daughter” or “Infant Son” of various people buried there. My mother stood staring into space and I asked her if she had seen a ghost and she just smiled. Meanwhile, I am dreaming of babies again – babies held close to me – always my arms are heavy with these phantom babies.