7/23/2023 0 Comments Julia rose feet“My rose is going by his feet because I used to write on them with a pen,” quipped another. “Where are his arms?” little Joshua wanted to know.Ībsorbing everything, I pointed to the center of the mound and said, “About right here.” “Mom, did you also see that I also combed Daddy’s hair when he was in the coffin?” “I’m going to put mine by his head because I used to comb his hair,” said one child. They clutched their roses as we sang Daddy’s favorite songs, "I’m Only a Pilgrim" and "Blessed Assurance," then, of course, 2-year-old Joshua’s favorite, "Praise Him for Daddy Dear."Įach child then placed their rose on a spot of his or her choice on the grave. The old double stroller, which we as a family had pushed many a mile when Jesse and Elijah were babies, was stacked with firewood, camp chairs and two children.Īfter our short walk down the gravel road and into a little wooded area, we all gathered around the mound by Daddy’s grave. Julia and I stepped into the pantry and shut the door where we planned and packed an extra special picnic for all seven of us. Now, a couple nights later, it came together. If the children were ready to go again, there was no other option. It had been a while since we were at the graveyard and surely my mental "homework" of once more facing that reality could be dealt with sooner or later. “Mom, could we take these roses that Owen gave and put them on Daddy’s grave?” a little voice asked. They are beautiful,” I said gazing at the six bright red roses now sitting on the kitchen table.
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