the dead are warm...

(more photos)
December 3rd was young Krista's birthday. She would have turned 27 this year. I've been visiting her grave for about two years now. It is an impromptu shrine that her mother has crafted amongst the eternal crust of dead leaves that fall from the oaks, alders, and sycamores that umbrella the path side she lies next to. Small angels stand guard and wrought iron carved flowers are rooted; there was a whirligig here last year but the weather must have destroyed it. The angels and wrought iron endure.

I came to visit her late Saturday night, bringing candles. I always bring candles. I used to also bring incense. I think they like incense. I used to suspect that it would awaken them a little more to my presence. I would sit longer with them when I burned incense as it would also take me to a deeper place of reverie. I'll start to do that again. Anyway, I brought a large votive for her of the "guardian angel" and three smaller votives that I simply placed on her stone marker. The aura of light was warming to her is all that I can think. And I didn't know if her mother would still come the next day or not. The diary that she used to keep in the Tupperware box disappeared last summer and I thought maybe she had moved away. I at least wanted her to be greeted by the warmth and love the next morning too...

I came back later on Sunday night, just to see if the candles were still lit. All three were. (I also put candles on Grant's and Tara's graves. Tara's mother always visits on Sundays.) I was just going to turn around and drive home once I saw from the car that they were still lit, but then realized that I had come all this way, and well, this was my special place. I should ALWAYS go into the cemetery when I get a chance. So I turned off the car and entered the gates. When I got to Krista's grave I saw that someone indeed had visited today and brought xmas decorations to decorate her grave with. It had to be her mother. I hope it was at least. To have lost a fifteen year old daughter, that memory has to last forever.