Saturday, graveside. The family had wrapped things up–when our niece Jessie turned back. Her brother’s small children had started to quietly play in this exotic ice you could slide a little on; snowballs had not yet been invented in their world. They’re California kids.
Jessie showed them her mother’s grave marker and told them about their grandma. Their eyes were fixed on the spot: in their experiences, Grandmas were people who loved you, always ready with a hug, not gray rectangle stones with words carved in them like a book. And soon there would be two, for their great grandma we were laying to rest.
A little later that day they were gleefully chasing yellow balloons and coloring Curious George pages at the surprise birthday party for their great- grandpa after the funeral luncheon. To Life!