In Memorium

It seems that several recent posts have dealt with interment. Continuing the theme...

I never knew her, or much about her. She died before I moved onto the hill twenty years ago. But I knew her daughter – a former government administrator; bright, efficient, energetic; an excellent horsewoman. I imagine that much of the mother lived on in the daughter.

She loved life here on the hill and wished to be buried here. When she passed on her daughter honored that wish. They held a service for her -- the daughter, son-in-law, a few friends, and a neighbor who was a retired clergyman. They buried her at the edge of a clearing in the forest behind our place, and there she remains.

Things have changed since we moved here. Then we were among the youngest people on the hill. Now I am the oldest. I have watched infants grow to adulthood and go away to college. Our friends are mostly gone, either passed away or moved on to other places, other lives. Her daughter left several years ago and the house, completely renovated, is now occupied by a young couple with children. From where she lies she can hear them playing. I hope they bring her joy.

There are changes in the landscape too. The red fox den halfway down the hill is now buried under a new house. The valley below was once open farmland – now it is filling up with housing tracts; mostly young couples with kids. We are becoming exurbanites. Up in the forest where she lies none of that can be seen. The trees cluster around, and in the forest life goes on as it must have when she was young.

One of my great joys these days is walking the paths of that forest and each time I pass through I pause, just for a second, beside her grave and say “hello.” Last week while I was there I took a picture. I hope she doesn’t mind my sharing it.

I remember her daughter once saying that daffodils were her mother’s favorite flower.