Sandra Heska King

daring to open doors

  • Home
  • About
  • DISCLOSURES
    • Amazon Affiliate
    • Book Reviews
  • Published
  • Contact
  • Blog
    • Commit Poetry
    • Dared

Through and Through Life: Decorating the Grave

May 26, 2011 By Sandra Heska King

I open the Journey’s hatch and pull out the urn fillers and tray of flowers, my gloves and tools.

I bend low.

Shovel scrapes against sod and dirt and stone.

It occurs to me there was a time when the graves themselves were dug this way.

Mom passed first, but she rests in the second spot because Dad wanted to lie in the shade of the tree.

My inlaws-to-be drove a Mercedes. They went all the way to Europe on the Queen Elizabeth to get it.

And I was afraid to meet them. I didn’t know any rich people or royalty.

But Mom made sandwiches–ham salad maybe–and served gherkins in a dish and deviled eggs. And Dad came in from the field in his dirty overalls and snored in his recliner for ten minutes after lunch before he got up and went back out on his John Deere.

He loved to eat. Some of his favorites were souse and sour cream doughnuts and salt-rising bread.

And when asked if he wanted pie, he’d answer, “Oh, mehbee.” Which meant “Give me a slice of each kind.”

He kept a diary. He recorded the weather and who visited or where they went and what they ate. He collected antique clocks, and the whole house tick-tocked, and chimes went off every hour–sometimes more often.

Mom always got after him to change his clothes to go to town, but he said nobody cared. It was just Charlotte.

He’d put the same clothes (and underwear) on every morning. “I only wore it one day,” he’d say.

So she’d steal his dirty clothes for the wash and drop clean ones in the same place. She said he never knew.

I can still hear her voice when she scolded him. “Oh, Keith!” and “Sheesh.”

Mom was the family historian. We’ve inherited scrapbooks and photos from way back. She devoted an entire wall downstairs to farm antiques and photos. She called it her museum.

They towed a travel trailer to Florida every winter and rode their three-wheeled bikes to every nearby all-you-can-eat place for early bird seating. We always took our bikes when we visited. Even flew them down on a plane once when we lived in New Jersey.

We had four winters with them when we lived in Florida. I’d go to coffee hour with her where all the ladies carried their cups in special homemade bags. She asked me to speak to the group about our trip to the Virgin Islands. And she always introduced me as a nurse.

I’ll never forget when she and I rode our bikes over to a local shopping center after Thanksgiving. She swerved to miss a car and tipped over sideways in slow motion. Blood dripped down her face from her broken glasses, and she was miffed that I made her go to the ER for stitches.

And I remember her wave as we backed out of the drive to head home to Georgia after a family reunion–only to hear the phone ring when we walked in the door and have to fly back.

She had developed hemorrhagic pancreatitis, and I felt guilty that I had not recognized that she was more than just tired. And the family turned to me when it came time to make the final decision to turn off the ventilator.

I move to the other side of the stone, where my husband’s grandparents and aunt and uncle lie.

And I leak a little because I break a large flowerhead off a marigold and realize I didn’t dig out as far, and it looks like I didn’t just didn’t take as much time on this side.

I stand up too fast and everything spins for a moment.

Now I trudge down the hill and back and forth for water, though it will likely rain later anyway.

We will also sleep here one day, and I wonder if our children will decorate this place. What thoughts will they think as they dig?

What memories will they treasure?

What legacy will we leave?

I am reminded of your sincere faith, which first lived in your grandmother Lois and in your mother Eunice and, I am persuaded, now lives in you also.
~2 Timothy 1:5 (NIV)

Share this:

  • Email
  • Print
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Pinterest

Filed Under: stories and reflections

Comments

  1. Anne Lang Bundy says

    May 27, 2011 at 9:56 pm

    Beautiful, Snady. I’m glad you shared every bit of it.

    I wonder, as we live the simple moments of each day, which of those insignificant moments will become a treasured memory in the lives of someone we dearly love, as you must have been to them.

  2. nance says

    May 27, 2011 at 10:12 pm

    i like the stories about your parents.
    especially your mom washing the clothes.

  3. HisFireFly says

    May 28, 2011 at 9:07 am

    Walking through with you, in tears, in joy, touched by your tender heart…

  4. Kenda says

    May 28, 2011 at 12:00 pm

    You’re leaving a beautiful legacy in words for your children, that’s for sure…

  5. S. Etole says

    May 28, 2011 at 2:42 pm

    This was special …. special and full of family love.

  6. Anonymous says

    May 29, 2011 at 10:15 am

    Wonderfully done, Sissy! And such a nice tribute to the Kings and how you hold them in your heart. 🙂

  7. Carol J. Garvin says

    May 29, 2011 at 3:23 pm

    When we treasure the special people in life, we treasure their memory in death. The flowers are a lovely reminder of the beauty yet shortness of our time on this earth. There is melancholy, but satisfaction and joy in lives well lived.

  • Email
  • Facebook
  • Flickr
  • Instagram
  • Pinterest
  • RSS
  • Twitter

Meet Sandra

I’m Sandra, a camera-toting, recovering doer who’s learning to be. still. Read more…

Get updates from the stillness by email

Your personal information is safe and will never be shared.

Archives

Categories

Instagram Inspiration

sandraheskaking

A tale of two iguanas... I did not see the iguana A tale of two iguanas... I did not see the iguana in the background until I downloaded the photos. That, I believe, is the one that got caught in one of the openings in the neighbor's chain link fence. We tried in several (safe) ways to dislodge it without luck and could think of no other option but to leave it. Somehow it apparently dislodged itself. We also believe this is the pair that was getting into another neighbor's garden. We haven't seen either one since the last cold snap, so we are wondering if they survived. 
🌱
Thinking some may have tumbled from their perches last night. Pretty sure it will be raining iguanas tonight since we are under a frost advisory. It's cold. And windy.
Just sing... sing a song... Singing our way into Just sing... sing a song... 

Singing our way into the weekend.
"We don't just see. We learn to see." ~ Russ Ramse "We don't just see. We learn to see." ~ Russ Ramsey in Rembrandt is in the Wind
Now you see me... now you don't. Now you see me... now you don't.
"I started looking and listening. I realized that "I started looking and listening. I realized that work, like life, is shot through with poetry. It was everywhere. I was so taken with what I discovered that I wrote a book about it." @gyoung9751 
🌱
Whether you work in an office, a retail store, a restaurant, or at home... Whether you work on roads or on power lines, or on high buildings...Whether you collect trash or preach sermons, or care for your kiddos. Whether you do art, or weave words, or take photos of a common gallinule AKA moorhen AKA swamp chicken--it's all shot through with poetry.
🌱
So pay attention. Find a poem.
🌱
Read more at https://www.tweetspeakpoetry.com/2023/01/10/its-poetry-at-work-day-2023/
Rising… Rising…
Everyone needs a little balance in life. And maybe Everyone needs a little balance in life. And maybe a beauty routine. And breakfast. Especially breakfast. I wonder if it consists of a few fire ants. I hope so. (Well, not mine. I'm having oatmeal with chia seeds. What are you having this morning?)
🌱
P.S. Happy Friday!
"Though your destination is not yet clear You can "Though your destination is not yet clear You can trust the promise of this opening; Unfurl yourself into the grace of beginning That is at one with your life's desire." ~John O'Donohue 
🌿
A blessing for a new beginning in a new year. I'm sure he wrote it especially for me. At least I'm claiming it. Maybe it will speak to you, too.
🌿
Also, I'd really like this skirt --> 
🌿
Read the whole poem--> -->
🌿
Well, bummer... The whole page didn't print. Read it in the comments below.
"What precocity, a bird half the size Of an Anjou "What precocity, a bird half the size
Of an Anjou pear." ~ Stephen Kuusisto in "The Mockingbird on Central" (Find it in The Poets Guide to the Birds edited by Judith Kitchen and Ted Kooser)
🌱
"The morning pages are the primary tool of creative recovery." ~ Julia Cameron in The Artist's Way. 
🌱
I've been in a long creative drought, so I started morning pages--again. This time I've got a bit of an accountability group through @refineretreat's Refinery--which I finally also joined this year. I'll turn 74 this month. I'm not ready to grow old while I age--though everything does seem to take longer while time goes by faster.
🌱
#aweandwonder #tsaweandwonder
Tonight’s walk in the neighborhood. I’m still Tonight’s walk in the neighborhood. I’m still kinda amazed that out of all the places we could have ended up after moving from a place I said I’d never move from), here we are—planted right next to the northern Everglades. Six-plus years, and I still shake my head in wonder.
"So fancy is the world..." ~ Mary Oliver in "This "So fancy is the world..." ~ Mary Oliver in "This World." #aweandwonder #tsaweandwonder
Look, Mom! I can walk on water! #aweandwonder #tsa Look, Mom! I can walk on water! #aweandwonder #tsaweandwonder
Gazing into 2023 like… Let’s take it step by Gazing into 2023 like… 
Let’s take it step by step with hope and courage. Also I hope to be posting again more often.
🎉
Happy New Year!
The morning before the last morning of 2022. 🌴 The morning before the last morning of 2022. 
🌴
71 degrees. Heading to 83. I can live with that.
From the top of Brasstown Bald—the highest point From the top of Brasstown Bald—the highest point in Georgia at 4784 feet.
Winding roads… Winding roads…
Tonight's moon. It's kinda okay. Tonight's moon. It's kinda okay.
Don’t mind me. Just storking by. Don’t mind me. Just storking by.
I’ve gotten several messages asking if things we I’ve gotten several messages asking if things were okay. Yes. I’ve recovered after 3 weeks in Covid jail. Also, I’ve been a bit scarce on social cuz we’ve been finishing up house renovations, and there is SO much that now needs to be cleaned and stuff put away. Also, we’ve had the second oldest grand with us for two weeks. I “should have” at least shared some stories about our adventures, but we’ve relished the time and kept busy. One can’t leave South Florida without a gator encounter, though, right? Tomorrow the two of us fly back to Michigan, and then I will spend a week with my sister where I expect I will be put to work in the chicken house and the gardens and become a glad(iola) roadside proprietor for a day at the Four Star in while she and my BIL attend a family reunion. I’ll also get to see my dad in the nursing home and spend a couple nights with my daughter. D will hold down the fort here. Then maybe by the first of next month, I’ll be able to finish putting things in order, breathe, find some writing space and get back to normal. Whatever that is.
I tossed and turned all night. And then the storm I tossed and turned all night. And then the storm started. I finally got up about 5ish and sat outside to watch. Until a couple mosquitoes found me. Also, the jasmine hadn’t gone to bed yet and smelled heavenly.
Load More... Follow on Instagram

Get the Mug

Embrace the life you have t s poetry mug

Privacy Policy

Full privacy policy is available HERE.

I Read Light

TSP-Red button

bibledude-net



Sponsor a Child

Join the Compassion Blogger Network

[footer_backtotop]

Copyright © 2023 Sandra Heska King · Site by The Willingham Enterprise, LLC on the Genesis Framework by StudioPress · Log in