Now that our Mom and Dad are buried in the cemetery in Millfield, I've had a change of heart about cemeteries. They seem more necessary, more comforting somehow. Though I still want to be cremated, I want some of my remains to be near Mom and Dad, my family -- "my people."
When Dad bought ten plots for a song back in the seventies, I couldn't imagine ever wanting to be buried there, because Millfied simply wasn't a part of my life. But now I understand that it's a part of my history -- my ancestry -- and I want to be part of the circle that is my family.
Maybe we'll all dance on our graves under the starry sky; maybe we'll whisper family stories back and forth; or maybe we'll just be where God can watch over us all together, where He can keep track of us. I want my little headstone to proclaim to the living that James and Roena Simpkins were my parents. And maybe I just don't want to let go of that when I die.
Hilltop is a beautiful, old county cemetery -- proud and honest and simple, just like those who are buried there. Mom once said that "none of her people" were there, but many of us will be one day, keeping her company, along with Dad. And as the words of that timeless song echo in my mind, "Will the circle be unbroken, by and by, Lord, by and by, there's a better home awaitin', in the sky, Lord, in the sky," I know that one day I'll finally be back home where I belong.
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And I'll be with you, too, Nannygoat. Strange how that sense hit both of us. Perhaps "home" has always been where they were. Dad always said, "You have a bed right here," you know, and they made sure of it when he bought those plots. I wish we could have told Momma that we would be there beside her, even if her first family isn't. And where, really, is there a prettier spot than the Hilltop? (I wish I could live in a spot that lovely.) Walt has finally decided that wants to be buried there, too, because Peck was the best dad he had -- so that leaves, after Rita and Don, only two plots left if we shanghai George's body, too. Who will want them, I wonder, and what will bring them to that conclusion?
Now the story is complete with my picture in place.
Even in the cold of winter it looks warm with the leaves blanketing the cold ground. And Mom would be happy that we used her Christmas flower arrangement that she wanted placed somewhere each Christmas.
It was your picture, Rita, that made me see the cemetery differently. Thank you and Don for tending the grave site.
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