It was supposed to rain but instead it was sunny with a clean breeze, the air smelled full of flowers and water and green grass. The roses are blooming and there is so much color. We spent the afternoon at Dragonfly Farms, an organic flower farm in Healdsburg where Ryan and I picked out our wedding flowers 12 years ago. Roses of the lightest color, and deep deep red and purple.
Luna loved the ducks and chickens. If she took your hand, you knew that was where you were headed. She loves animals. She learns so much all the time, animal sounds, words, she says "yah" or "no" if you ask her a question. She is full of wanting to learn. And lots of squeals of laughter. Especially if Bo eats out of her hand.
In our backyard, Ottos' rose bush is full of flowers. It was easy to pick a bouquet today to bring to his headstone, of red and orange roses, of calla lilies, of pink carnations from our yard. My mom and Josef and Ryan's parents were all there. It felt good to hear their voices around.
I am just happy at first to see the beautiful headstone, to put the bright flowers in the vase at the base of the stone. I clear it off. I have always seen people do this in movies, and now it's interesting to do it myself, it is like making his bed and smoothing the sheets, natural to want the stone to look polished and dignified, to wipe off any smears of dirt, brush away the pine needles. To care for my son in a small way.At first I am pleased to see it and then Ryan gives me a hug and the tears come from my belly. I hug him for a long time and cry. I don't want Otto to be down there. I feel the weight of the stone on top of him, the weight on my heart of accepting how things are and not wanting to. The weight of love. The weight of being brave. It makes me feel tired. So I keep crying, letting myself feel all of this, all of how things are. My sweet little girl running around, my sweet little boy, watching his family around his grave, placing flowers, missing him.
I love being able to have this ceremony, have the family around to give him kisses on the the earth above him with our fingers, in this beautiful piece of country surrounded by apple trees and blue skies with white clouds. This is life. Life is getting more and more beautiful as time goes by, more full, I see how it includes dying. But it is not less painful. The pain is part of it too.
We stop at the frozen yogurt place in Sebastopol on our way out of town. It reminds me of all of our counseling sessions after Otto left, just barely walking up the hill, a block from our therapist's office, to this place, to have a treat and process a little. It is the best yogurt place.
Eating my yogurt I feel ghosts of the huge rifts we have had to find our way across, the kindness of the people who slowly walked us through, the sound of a soft voice that let us cry and cry. And here we are, a little bit later, here we are, still alive, humbly on the earth as it turns again and again, small creatures soaking up the spring. Visiting the small grave of such a beautiful, wise, big soul.
