There is a cemetery in Southern Delaware that is at the end of a dirt road. It is well kept, and the gravestones there are uniform, with simplicity being the thing they all have in common. Row after row in perfect symmetry, nearly all are unmarked by flowers or mementos of any kind. I have not often been there, but the thing that strikes me every time I go is the the names I recognize from the last 20 years. Rosa Lozana, Virginia Frey, Dorothy Marvel, John Finnegan, Martha Pierce. . . and many that I recognize only by their first names. This is the graveyard of the indigent, handicapped people, wards of the state, whose families either could not, or chose not to fund a burial in another cemetery. Though not actually on the grounds of Delaware’s infamous “Stockley Center” it is maintained by the administration and is very near by. As I said, at the end of a dirt road.
This is where we laid Old Gertrude to rest last November on a sunny day. I remember standing in the cemetery, friends all around, and flowers from our church being placed, one by one on her casket and around her open grave. My Daddy was there. He had the opening prayer in the memorial service in the little chapel, and he was strong and participant and thoughtful. I remember him standing there in the cemetery that day, the sun on his white hair, his skin tanned. He was dressed up, like for church. He looked so good.
I haven’t been to Stockley since Old Gertrude was buried. I had such a longing to go to her grave in the few weeks before Daddy died, but had gotten sidetracked when everything happened so swiftly. Old Gertrude loved Christmas, and our daughters had wanted to take her favorite Christmas toy and leave it on her grave, but none of us had gotten there.
There was a class at Stockley Center today. Once a year, “they” make foster care providers take a medication class so that we can “assist” with the numerous meds that our handicapped individuals are on. Since I find myself in that position, it was mandatory. This morning I looked at the schedule and thought that if there was time, I would like to go out to the grave. I had some silk daffodils that I wanted to put there, and I wanted to think. When the morning session ended a half an hour early, I knew that my wish was being granted.
It seemed like the cemetery was further away than I remembered, and I found it a lonely trek to the end of the blacktop and then down the dirt road. There is a fence all around, and an arched entrance into the cemetery. I left my van down by the entrance, and walked across to where there was some bare ground rising above the grass. Old Gertrude’s stone is not yet in place, but there was a little marker there, and barely legible in ball point pen I could just make out “Gertrude Finnegan.” The ground was soft, and the flowers went in easily. It was a beautiful day, and I sang her a song and talked to her about where she is and what it is like there. I remembered those last difficult, pain-filled months, and thought about her being whole and healthy and free. There were tears shed, and they were selfish tears as I thought about what the losses of this last year have been, and about how much I miss her steady devotion and sense of humor and easy conversation.
There is going to be someone out there who will not understand what I am going to say next. But I was suddenly aware that first she, and then Daddy, have given me a wonderful gift. I know that they are not treasure that I stored up in Heaven, but they are part of my treasure, and they are in Heaven, and that has made me more aware of Heaven and what waits there than I have ever had cause to ponder before. And I like it. I like to think about the reality of a place that is so full of light and all that is good, so free of tears and pain and sickness and death and loss and grief and heartache. A place where Old Gertrude and I will be equals and all that I loved about her will be even more real than this life here is to me now.
I like to think about what it will be like to see my Savior first of all, and look on the face of a Holy God and know that I am forgiven, not that I “made it through, somehow” or was “good enough,” but that, just like Old Gertrude and Daddy and every other saint who came safely home, I was brought home through what Jesus did for me.
And that, my dear friends, really is a tiny glimpse of a much bigger picture!
What a hope!
The Bigger Picture
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Delaware Grammy 
Beautiful … simply beautiful! Love you.
Thank you once again Mary Ann. You have such a way with words and those were ones I wouldn’t have wanted to miss hearing. As I read the end of your post, I saw similarities between your words and a sermon your brother preached a few weeks back which I also enjoyed. Bless you and your family! ~Erica
Mary Ann, if I could think and write those thoughts, I would have. Thank you so much.
Thanks for sharing ……what else is there to say
Ah, yes. I know what you mean. You’ve said it so well, as usual. Thank you, CFBP!
Your way with words touches my heart! Thank you for sharing this.
Ok Mary Ann….do you know how hard it is to answer the phone “Good morning Delaware Tech” when there is this big ole lump in your throat and tears in your eyes?? – good thing nothing is going on in this building yet today so I am alone in this lobby! Thanks for sharing that! I never got a chance to know but one of my grandparents and she died when I was 5 so when I think of heaven I think of getting to know these awesome unknown-to-me saints who had such a huge part in making me who I am! Thanks for reminding me of that today!
Beautfiful houghts and Beautiful Promise beautifully written.
RYC on my “organ recital”. Ahhhhh, you listened to my “music”. I appreciate your concern. Thank you for you input (You would be surprised what I have learned from lovely Xanga friends like you!). I have had issues before with that organ. I was asked once last year if I was drinking heavily (cholesterol med it was)! I may have felt like it with pain like I have had but I will never go down that crooked road! Two MRI’s have been done of my lower back. The last one in Oct. actually looked better than the one 6 months before(?) but still two herniated disks. (The one done two weeks ago was of my upper back, so it doesn’t really factor into this equation). Now it is a matter of waiting for my insurance to authorize another one. I think they think I am a hypochondriac!!!!! My primary care doc’s NP said their is no excuse for that and she is calling as I did yesterday. Hope I get it soon. My doc can do nothing until another is done. Gabapentin is being discontinued just when it was beginning to help. It was the problem she thinks with my liver.You make me feel so good when you call me “Sweet Dominie”. I feel like a precious little child again!
thoughts, not houghts, of course. Shivering from the cold is making typing difficult! LOL Our house is cold still even though furnace was turned on early a.m (Unsusal for us Arizonans to even turn it on!).
Another correction: there, not their. English was one of my favorite subjects and I always got A’s so I really hate it when it appears I didn’t learn my lessons well!!!
Not another one?! unusual, of course. Simple proofreading is such a simple solution to these addendems! Maybe my eyes are shrivering, too. LOL
Noooooo PLEASE do not suggest that my husband sell ONE MORE THING!!! Betimes I think I shall lose my tiny little mind entirely with his “Curious Georgeness” and his love of hopping from one thing to another before the first thing is done! *_* We do sell corn stoves like the one we use in our house, but demand has been so high that the manufacturer can’t keep up, so we can’t even get any right now. It’s the only heat we have in the house except for the baseboard electric recently installed in the upstairs bath and bedrooms. A lot less work than wood and costs about $15/week.
RYC on my site: You are so right about that “Heffalump Syndrome”!
I will post my antique books soon. My sister the antique collector was very impressed!
Auntie Mary, there are tears in my eyes, hope in my soul, and love in my heart. You perpetually bless me, and I love you ever so much!
Mama, wow. It made me miss Gertie even more than usual. But I think a part of me likes to remember her. She made a difference in my life, and I don’t want to forget that.love you, Deborah
Enjoyed this post. You have such a talent for putting your feelings onto ‘paper’. Hey, isn’t that interesting that Dan knew Glenn forever? It’s a small world!
RYC about my antique book collection. It is now posted on my site.
Thanks Mary Ann, for the beautiful word picture. ~ Nancy