A Quest Accomplished

I finally made it to the cemetery yesterday afternoon -- a mini-journey that I have been wanting to embark upon, as I've written over the past couple of days, but haven't been able to make it. This was a trip that I had to do without my children. When I visited the place last week, I had both kids with me. Some of my relatives were easy to find, but we simply could not find my great aunts (Henrietta and Johanna) nor their parents. Johanna died five years ago -- the last I had been to that particular spot -- and I vaguely recalled it was closer to the highway than my grandparents, who were in a different section, but after a long time of romping amongst the "ten commandments" (Aidan's version of headstones), I had to give up without success. I returned the next day, after picking up Aidan from school, and did another drive-by, but I still could not find them. Finally my aunt got involved and gave my mother directions, so yesterday my dad and I loaded up the car with the essentials (peat moss, mulch, geraniums, spade, trowel, watering can, and directions) and headed out.

We did the easiest one first: my dad's parents, Edward and Ida, buried by the only white birch tree on the property. We planted two geraniums there, one on either side of the stone. A very funny thing happened during the digging of the first hole, next to my grandfather's name. Now I never knew my grandfather -- he died of cancer four years before I was born -- but he is one individual that I truly wish I could have known. From what I've been told, he was hilarious -- a jokester, a prankster, a funny, funny man. As my dad commenced digging, he commented on the large roots he was encountering, not knowing where the were coming from. He continued to dig while I got our things ready, when suddenly I heard a very loud "POP!" which was immediately followed by my dad's "Whoa!" and a shower of dirt on me. I laughed -- leave it to my grandfather to play another joke! That was a good moment.

Directly behind them was the stone of my great-grandparents, Edward's parents Pieter and Henrietta, so we planted one flower there. We walked over a short way to visit the place of my mom's parents, Henry and Alberdiena (Trina) -- boy, I still can't look at that stone without getting emotional. We had nothing for them -- my aunt informed me that she takes care of them. (Although I think I might just go back with one little flower from me -- I feel compelled).

Then we hopped back in the car for our final quest: my great-aunts Henrietta and Johanna, and their parents Johannes and Johanna. Not very creative in the naming department, were they? :) With directions in hand, I slowly wound my way through the curving paths, but still we could not find them! We saw several stones with the same last name (a common Dutch name, the equivalent of "Smith" in Holland) but they continued to elude us. Finally I parked the car and we decided to get out and walk. My dad finally found them, and we planted the last two geraniums between their stones.

I felt very, very good after that adventure. I got to talk to my dad, which was nice. Having him there was not only a big help, but his presence probably kept my emotions in check. We talked about little things, like why do most people plant geraniums in cemeteries? We did see some pansies and mums, but the hands-down winner was the geranium. We talked a little about the people we were honoring, and my dad recalled a few stories -- his grandmother Henrietta was laid-out in her kitchen when she died, but he couldn't remember anything about his grandfather's funeral. He told me that his brother, my Uncle Bern, used to plant flowers every year but had stopped at some point along the way; my dad too used to tend to the plots on a regular basis in the past. He told me that my mom's side, however, refused to do anything, saying adamantly, "Well, they're not there, so why bother?" I wonder if my great-aunts and great-grandparents wouldn't appreciate my quest to find them, and scorn my desire to plant flowers by them. My aunt told me she used to plant things by them in the first years but nothing ever lived, no matter what she tried. Maybe that's not a coincidence! :)

Yes, it was a good day. I'm glad I did it. I think I'll go back, with a flower for my mom's parents. My dad told me that his maternal grandparents are somewhere in there too, Bouwe (Barney) and Antje (Anna), but he doesn't know where. I sense another quest coming up! I wonder what compels us to do things like this? To visit people who have passed away? To plant flowers by their headstones? To make repeated return trips to water and care for those plants? I am fascinated with the idea of them in heaven -- just what does that mean? If I sat by my grandparents' plot and talked to them, will they hear me? Do they know we're back? Do they know what we've gone through? Do they know I have children of my own now? Does my grandfather know that my son's middle name was chosen after him (as well as my dad, Henry)? I know people -- theologians and commoners alike -- have debated these issues for years and years, and the Bible certainly isn't very helpful in this department. These thoughts have always interested me. But enough musing ... time to get ready for church. It was a good, good day yesterday.