Graves at Christmas

When we chose to bury E, we of course never before considered where we would bury one of our children. Fortunately in our country, contemplating whether to or where to bury a child is not a commonly faced decision. The few of us who do face that decision likely do so with much trepidation and complete unpreparedness. Worse yet, I know a dear friend whose choice regarding the care for her child's remains was completely stolen from her when hospital staff denied her the opportunity to hold or even see her baby. As I write this, I think of all of us who have made decisions for the care of our children. But I especially think of and hold in my heart those of us who were denied that opportunity.

Winter was just starting to make its presence known when my husband, myself, and our three living children walked the cemetery one year ago, searching for the best spot for E. The cold wind blew, snow flurries cluttered the sky, and darkness started to close in on us. We looked at the 'baby area' in what was now our cemetery and we realized we wanted more for E. The tiny grave markers, flat to the earth in order to allow for easy mowing and snow removal. The solitary stones marking individual graves, for babies. It just seemed so lonely. I didn't want my baby alone. But I also knew that what we would bury was merely a representation of E. It wasn't her. She was already with God. The location of her remains, while certainly could serve as a way to honor E, is not the essence of E's being.

That day in the cemetery, we ended up making the least permanent of choices for E's remains. After at least an hour of mentally and physically going back and forth between the option of purchasing a family plot (which we could not afford), an individual plot outside of the baby area (which included the option for an actual headstone, not permitted in the baby area), or burying E in the baby area where only flat grave markers are allowed, the cemetery caretaker finally gave us an idea we wished he had shared with us at the very beginning of our cold cemetery walk. We could buy an additional burial 'container' that would allow us to bury E in the baby area, yet be able to move E to a family plot chosen on a later date.

E's grave in the baby area is unmarked. When we searched the baby area and saw that some of the older graves were marked with headstones and not just flat markers, we inquired about burying E in one of the presumably vacant plots. The caretaker looked up the plot records and discovered the plots were not vacant, just unmarked. I was saddened that a child was buried more than fifty years ago and the grave remained unmarked. I could never allow that. Yet, here we sit a year after our cold cemetery walk and E's grave is still unmarked. Marking that plot seems so permanent, yet we still cannot afford to move her remains to a family plot. I don't know if I fear marking that spot because it would become an excuse to leave E's remains there and never move to a family plot or if it's because marking the grave puts one more stamp of finality to her life. Even a year out I still walk the halls of denial, hoping to find E alive and well around the corner.

This year, I bought a small tree and solar powered Christmas lights with the intention of decorating E's grave. I had visions of making little ornaments with her name on them, along with notes from her siblings. The tree and the lights sit in my van, perhaps waiting for the day I finally muster the strength to make that turn into the cemetery. I understand why even after fifty years, those presumably vacant plots remain bare.