Friday, the last day of school, me and the kids are sitting in DQ having ice cream as an afternoon treat and Miss I says "Mama I felt sad today." Interesting, I think she never uses words like sad to identify feelings. "What were you sad about?" I ask her. "Beethoven." She says. Ahhhh, I think, here we go.
Beethoven was my Dad's dog. When we visited a couple weeks ago they had recently had to put him to sleep because he was very sick. When we were there and found out I took Miss I into another room and talked to her, told her that the dog was old, he had been sick, the doctors weren't able to help him and then he died. Simple words for a three year old. I hadn't told Bubba because it hadn't come up and he's not really an animal person anyway so it wouldn't be that big of a deal.
But now here we are in DQ and she says she is sad because of Beethoven and Bubba wants to know what happened to Beethoven. So I tell him the same thing, he was old, sick and the doctor couldn't fix him and he died. And I wait because I know my son and he is going to have a question or a comment. And he doesn't disappoint me.
"Mom, when you die do you want to be buried in a box or burned up?" (And we're off!) "Well," I tell him, "I am not sure if that's for me to decide. Maybe it should be your choice when I die." He declares immediately that he wants me buried in a box so he has somewhere to go visit. And then asks if I know anyone buried in the cemetery. I tell him yes, and also explain that when people are cremated there is a place their ashes can be placed so you can go visit too. He asks if we can go see it? I figured why not, it was early afternoon, the cemetery isn't far and we can kill two birds with one stone (no pun intended). "First," he says, "can we stop at home and get flowers for your friend's grave?" (Ain't he sweet?)
So we run home, I pick some peonies and roses from the yard real quick while they wait in the car and we head to the cemetery. First, I show them the mausoleum, Bubba and I inspect the place where urns go so people can visit. Then, we go looking for my friend Staci's grave. I tell the kids a little about her, and how she died. We also checked out lots of other headstones too.
As Bubba and I were wandering around, Miss I stayed behind at Staci's grave. It was interesting and very touching. I could actually hear her singing something to her. I don't know what, but I thought it was very sweet. It is interesting to note too, just to show the differences in their personalities. He was into the mechanics of things, how come people have large or small headstones? How come some of them have two names on them? How come? Why?? And she realized that it was a place to sit and be quiet and respectful.
*sigh* the interesting-ness of life huh?