I’ll never forget the first Mother’s Day after my husband died. It was the day I buried him. Through a nightmare of events, I had to have his service on Saturday and wait for burial until Mother’s Day of all days. After the graveside service, we said goodbye to most of those that were there for the service, and then my daughter and I planted ourselves on the grass and watched while they lowered my husband’s casket into the ground. I know that most people choose not to see this act that brings such finality to an already most difficult scene. However, I wanted to be there until the very end, and my daughter asked to wait with me.
We watched them close the casket into the vault and then lower both pieces into the ground. Then came the dirt. Lots of dirt followed by loads of tears down my cheeks. Soon after, the cemetery workers placed some of the cut pieces of grace back on his grave and the funeral director added the flowers that had been on his casket or sent to the service. It was over, or maybe I should say…it had really just begun. We walked away…broken…full of mixed emotions, but most of them encompassed by utter sadness.
During those early months, I visited the cemetery almost daily. It was the last place of connection I had to my husband’s earthly body. I guess, in some ways, I felt closer to him at the cemetery. Sometimes I would just sit and stare, most often I would cry, or maybe I would pray and read from God’s Word. Nevertheless, I walked away sad…very, very sad.
This past Sunday, I made a return visit to the cemetery. I like to change out the flowers upon his grave seasonally, and so I felt with the cooling temperatures, it was time for the autumn arrangement to be displayed. Again, my daughter went with me.
Right after placing the flowers into the vase, we heard a loud noise over to the side of where we were. My daughter asked, “What is that noise?” And..it hit me. It was raining on the tin roof of a nearby utility building. “It’s rain!”, I exclaimed. “We better hurry up.” No sooner had the words escaped my mouth when the rain started falling…rather, it was pouring! Sheets and sheets of rain. We were soaking wet within seconds after it began.
We immediately took off running through the grass back to the car. While running, I started laughing hysterically! I couldn’t stop. We looked like a couple of drowned rats trying to outrun rain that felt like it was pouring as thick as the waters of Niagra Falls. The very thought of it made me laugh harder. Then…Anna started laughing. It was contagious. We finally made it back into the car and took a moment to catch our breath, and then we started laughing all over again.
After we calmed down, I looked at Anna and said, “Wow! We laughed…in the cemetery. That’s a first! Look how far God’s brought us honeybun.”
She smiled and agreed.
From tears to laughter.
From brokenness to healing.
From the pit to the mountaintop.
Only God.