This experience has caused me to question things. I was raised Catholic, but stopped following that faith fairly early on. I have always considered myself spiritual, but not religious. When asked I would always reply that I did not subscribe to any organized religion. I have made too many mistakes to be religious. Religion is something I find fascinating, of course. I find faith beautiful and I do wish that it fit into my life. It is hard though, the "rules" so many rules. I don't like being told what to do, and I like even less being judged.
A belief I held for quite some time now was that, when we pass away, our soul leaves our body, and if you are a good person, you choose what you move along to. So, if I'm good, when I die, my soul will move along to something of my choosing...say a hawk. If you're bad though, the opposite happens. But good an bad is so subjective, isn't it?
With the loss of my daughter, the thought that her soul left and is just gone...I simply cannot accept that. That means that I will never see her again, she is just gone. And, if my belief was true, what does it mean for her anyway? She didn't have a life. She didn't have the opportunity to live a good life. I just can't see how it could be possible now.
But then, what is possible? Is my baby in limbo? Is she in Heaven? Is my baby in danger of ending up in a terrible place based on my own wrong doings and Steve's?
Some how, these things seem impossible for me to answer and impossible to understand. But I am not able to just accept that there is nothing after death and that my beautiful little girl is just gone forever. That can't be possible, it just can't. Why would I lose her to never, ever see her again?
I simply have to believe that I will see her again or I will become so irreparably broken that there will be no way for me to ever be happy, or even normal, ever again.
And if I will see her again, who's god is holding onto her and caring for her while she waits for me?
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Saturday, May 29, 2010
May 29, 2010
It's been a month today, since I delivered my daughter. A month. I can't decide if this is a long time or an incredibly short time. Either way, I don't feel any better than I felt that day. My days and weeks are not getting any easier. My life is not carrying on as usual, it's not getting back into a routine. I'M not getting back into a routine.
I am still hurting. That same amount of pain as the very first day they told me my daughter was gone. The same amount of pain as the day I delivered my daughter, the day I chose her burial clothes, the day I said my last goodbye and watched them lower her casket into the ground. The pain is not better, it's not less, it's the same.
Today I wore a mask of normality while we went for lunch with my family. No one said anything about what day it was and I wondered if they knew. Did they remember what happened exactly a month ago? Probably not. It's not as much on everyone else's mind as it is on mine.
When we came home I sat here. I cleaned a bit, I watched some TV, I did some laundry. Finally, I asked Steve if we could go to the cemetery. I felt like that's where I needed to be. It's cold, it's snowy, and no one in their right mind would want to be out in this. But that's just it, isnt' it? I am not in my right mind. I am trapped in the mind of a mother who is without her child.
Of course Steve agreed. He always agrees to take me there. I went to the basement and found one of my old teddy bears. It has magnets in it's hands. The point is for it to hold onto a card. It wore a hat like a mailman. The bear always looked to me, like it was praying. I ripped the hat off the bear and replaced it with the hat that Alexandra was supposed to wear home from the hospital. I put the matching sleeper that she was supposed to wear home on the bear as well. It fit perfectly.
We went to the cemetery and I left it there for her. It was way too chilly for us to stay for a long time, but I had my few minutes to reflect and leave the bear. When it was time to go, I told my angel that I loved her and I said goodbye. Once we arrived home, I felt a little bit more peace than I had all day. I can't help but think that my little angel is trying to help me feel peace. She knows that her mommy is hurting for her and she is trying to help. This is what I have to believe or that tiny bit of peace will leave me and I will be left in that place that I have become all too familiar with this past month. Pain, hurt, sorrow and desperation.
I am still hurting. That same amount of pain as the very first day they told me my daughter was gone. The same amount of pain as the day I delivered my daughter, the day I chose her burial clothes, the day I said my last goodbye and watched them lower her casket into the ground. The pain is not better, it's not less, it's the same.
Today I wore a mask of normality while we went for lunch with my family. No one said anything about what day it was and I wondered if they knew. Did they remember what happened exactly a month ago? Probably not. It's not as much on everyone else's mind as it is on mine.
When we came home I sat here. I cleaned a bit, I watched some TV, I did some laundry. Finally, I asked Steve if we could go to the cemetery. I felt like that's where I needed to be. It's cold, it's snowy, and no one in their right mind would want to be out in this. But that's just it, isnt' it? I am not in my right mind. I am trapped in the mind of a mother who is without her child.
Of course Steve agreed. He always agrees to take me there. I went to the basement and found one of my old teddy bears. It has magnets in it's hands. The point is for it to hold onto a card. It wore a hat like a mailman. The bear always looked to me, like it was praying. I ripped the hat off the bear and replaced it with the hat that Alexandra was supposed to wear home from the hospital. I put the matching sleeper that she was supposed to wear home on the bear as well. It fit perfectly.
We went to the cemetery and I left it there for her. It was way too chilly for us to stay for a long time, but I had my few minutes to reflect and leave the bear. When it was time to go, I told my angel that I loved her and I said goodbye. Once we arrived home, I felt a little bit more peace than I had all day. I can't help but think that my little angel is trying to help me feel peace. She knows that her mommy is hurting for her and she is trying to help. This is what I have to believe or that tiny bit of peace will leave me and I will be left in that place that I have become all too familiar with this past month. Pain, hurt, sorrow and desperation.
Friday, May 28, 2010
May 28, 2010
I had a rough night last night. I did a lot of crying and really didn't sleep much. Yesterday we had made the final arrangements for Alexandra's headstone and it stung. We picked the most perfect headstone for her though, and I think she will look down on it and love it. I was hurt to find out that it will still be 6-8 weeks before it will be installed. So, mid July before we can do the balloon release. This makes me sad.
This morning I woke up and knew that today was the day to call about therapy. I was not ready to call about this before. It's too hard to make all these calls, to think about all of this stuff. Today was the day though. I have got to do something to help myself get better.
So, this afternoon I called. I called and the woman I talked to said the same thing pretty much everyone says..."I'm so sorry for your loss" I didn't reply. I don't anymore. What do you say to that? Thank you? Thank you for what? I don't know how well the silence goes over for people, but I am really just done with responding to the apologies. I made an appointment and I'm glad.
I also had to call about my 6 week post partum appointment. When we were in the hospital the doctor came in shortly before we left. She told me that I could go to the prenatal clinic for this appointment or I could go to my family doctor. I chose the prenatal clinic, so that's who I called today.
I want to first say that the day we found out that Alexandra had passed, when I called to cancel my appointment and I told the receptionist that I was headed to labor and delivery because the baby wasn't moving, the receptionist was cold and I was really taken aback by her response. She didn't wish us luck or tell us that she hoped everything was ok. She was just short, impolite and cold.
Today when I called, the same receptionist answered the phone. I explained that I needed to make an appointment, that it was my six week postpartum appointment and I needed to make it for two weeks from today. The receptionist cut me off half way through my explanation and abruptly told me that they don't do these appointments there. I explained that the doctor had told me that I could come in there and the receptionist cut me off again, rudely asking when I was told this. I told her that I was told this, by a doctor from that clinic, at the hospital, the day I delivered. The receptionist, still being rude told me that they don't see the baby...that was where I cut her off. I spit the words "MY baby was stillborn" and she immediately stopped talking. She sat there for a minute, and then told me to hold on. She left me on hold for quite some time and when she came back she basically said that she didn't know what I was talking about and that they would have to ask the doctor on Monday and call me back.
I wanted to scream at her, I wanted to curse her out, to call her a million horrible names. What is wrong with this woman? How can she be so rude and so cold to people? I don't care if I end up having an appointment in six weeks with this clinic, I will be making a complaint to SOMEONE about this woman.
Does she not know or care how hard that phone call was? And now I have to go through it again on Monday, and if they choose not to see me, I have to go through it AGAIN at another clinic. I am pissed off. I am hurt. This clinic was sub par throughout my entire pregnancy. I have gone to this clinic for 2 other pregnancies and they were much better (and they saw me for my postpartum check up both times) This time, they have been terrible. They were not there for me through my loss, I didn't see anyone until after I had delivered. A doctor I knew did not deliver my daughter. They passed me off to another clinic. If I ever have another baby, I will be going to a different clinic and anyone that I meet that is pregnant will be hearing NOT to go to the Calgary low risk maternity clinic. These people certainly don't seem to care about their patients if the worst happens, and that's simply not ok. And that receptionist needs to take a coarse on empathy, because she is apathetic and it's disgusting.
Today, I am hurt and I am angry.
This morning I woke up and knew that today was the day to call about therapy. I was not ready to call about this before. It's too hard to make all these calls, to think about all of this stuff. Today was the day though. I have got to do something to help myself get better.
So, this afternoon I called. I called and the woman I talked to said the same thing pretty much everyone says..."I'm so sorry for your loss" I didn't reply. I don't anymore. What do you say to that? Thank you? Thank you for what? I don't know how well the silence goes over for people, but I am really just done with responding to the apologies. I made an appointment and I'm glad.
I also had to call about my 6 week post partum appointment. When we were in the hospital the doctor came in shortly before we left. She told me that I could go to the prenatal clinic for this appointment or I could go to my family doctor. I chose the prenatal clinic, so that's who I called today.
I want to first say that the day we found out that Alexandra had passed, when I called to cancel my appointment and I told the receptionist that I was headed to labor and delivery because the baby wasn't moving, the receptionist was cold and I was really taken aback by her response. She didn't wish us luck or tell us that she hoped everything was ok. She was just short, impolite and cold.
Today when I called, the same receptionist answered the phone. I explained that I needed to make an appointment, that it was my six week postpartum appointment and I needed to make it for two weeks from today. The receptionist cut me off half way through my explanation and abruptly told me that they don't do these appointments there. I explained that the doctor had told me that I could come in there and the receptionist cut me off again, rudely asking when I was told this. I told her that I was told this, by a doctor from that clinic, at the hospital, the day I delivered. The receptionist, still being rude told me that they don't see the baby...that was where I cut her off. I spit the words "MY baby was stillborn" and she immediately stopped talking. She sat there for a minute, and then told me to hold on. She left me on hold for quite some time and when she came back she basically said that she didn't know what I was talking about and that they would have to ask the doctor on Monday and call me back.
I wanted to scream at her, I wanted to curse her out, to call her a million horrible names. What is wrong with this woman? How can she be so rude and so cold to people? I don't care if I end up having an appointment in six weeks with this clinic, I will be making a complaint to SOMEONE about this woman.
Does she not know or care how hard that phone call was? And now I have to go through it again on Monday, and if they choose not to see me, I have to go through it AGAIN at another clinic. I am pissed off. I am hurt. This clinic was sub par throughout my entire pregnancy. I have gone to this clinic for 2 other pregnancies and they were much better (and they saw me for my postpartum check up both times) This time, they have been terrible. They were not there for me through my loss, I didn't see anyone until after I had delivered. A doctor I knew did not deliver my daughter. They passed me off to another clinic. If I ever have another baby, I will be going to a different clinic and anyone that I meet that is pregnant will be hearing NOT to go to the Calgary low risk maternity clinic. These people certainly don't seem to care about their patients if the worst happens, and that's simply not ok. And that receptionist needs to take a coarse on empathy, because she is apathetic and it's disgusting.
Today, I am hurt and I am angry.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Bunny Bunny - Part 2
Bunny Bunny was given another name. His name was to be Po, like the main character from Kung Fu Panda. While he had been given this name, it didn't stick and everyone still called him Bunny Bunny, or just Bunny.
Bunny spent a lot of time outside in the summer. The kids would play in the yard and Bunny Bunny would stay out there with them. He never tried to escape from the yard, he just hopped around eating dandy lions and grass. If you were standing near him, and he liked you, he would hop around you in circles or hop on your feet and love bite your toes. He was a funny little guy and everyone that encountered him loved him.
My sister would pet the bunny every night, when they went camping, she would have me stay at the house to care for the bunny. She trusted that I would spend lots of time with the bunny, take him outside to play and give him as much love as he needed.
Bunny Bunny spent his indoor time in my oldest nephews room. He had his cage in there, with the door always open. He hopped around the room freely and slept in his cage whenever he wanted to.
Bunny Bunny wasn't a lonely pet. He had a big dog to play with. The dog was not a fan of little Bunny Bunny at first, but he grew to accept him quickly. Not long ago Bunny Bunny was joined by two kittens. He slept frequently with one of them. He always had someone to play with, whether it was a human or another pet, he was always close to someone that loved him.
My nephew was as stellar pet owner. He cleaned up after Bunny Bunny, he spent time with him, he pet him and loved him very much.
Because of the love my nephew has for his pet bunny, he was the one that found him on Monday morning. He went to wake up the bunny but he couldn't.
Bunny Bunny passed away peacefully in his sleep sometime in the early morning on Monday, May 24, 2010.
He was the sweetest little bunny that anyone could ever ask for. He was very much part of my sister's family and he will be very sorely missed.
I am so deeply hurt and saddened by what my nephew is going through and how he is hurting. I am also incredibly sad for my sister, who lost one of her babies.
I know that some people don't consider animals part of the family, we are not some of those people. I hope that everyone reading this will say a pray or send some positive energy out for my sister and her family and for Bunny Bunny, who now plays with my angel Alexandra and all the other angel babies.
Bunny spent a lot of time outside in the summer. The kids would play in the yard and Bunny Bunny would stay out there with them. He never tried to escape from the yard, he just hopped around eating dandy lions and grass. If you were standing near him, and he liked you, he would hop around you in circles or hop on your feet and love bite your toes. He was a funny little guy and everyone that encountered him loved him.
My sister would pet the bunny every night, when they went camping, she would have me stay at the house to care for the bunny. She trusted that I would spend lots of time with the bunny, take him outside to play and give him as much love as he needed.
Bunny Bunny spent his indoor time in my oldest nephews room. He had his cage in there, with the door always open. He hopped around the room freely and slept in his cage whenever he wanted to.
Bunny Bunny wasn't a lonely pet. He had a big dog to play with. The dog was not a fan of little Bunny Bunny at first, but he grew to accept him quickly. Not long ago Bunny Bunny was joined by two kittens. He slept frequently with one of them. He always had someone to play with, whether it was a human or another pet, he was always close to someone that loved him.
My nephew was as stellar pet owner. He cleaned up after Bunny Bunny, he spent time with him, he pet him and loved him very much.
Because of the love my nephew has for his pet bunny, he was the one that found him on Monday morning. He went to wake up the bunny but he couldn't.
Bunny Bunny passed away peacefully in his sleep sometime in the early morning on Monday, May 24, 2010.
He was the sweetest little bunny that anyone could ever ask for. He was very much part of my sister's family and he will be very sorely missed.
I am so deeply hurt and saddened by what my nephew is going through and how he is hurting. I am also incredibly sad for my sister, who lost one of her babies.
I know that some people don't consider animals part of the family, we are not some of those people. I hope that everyone reading this will say a pray or send some positive energy out for my sister and her family and for Bunny Bunny, who now plays with my angel Alexandra and all the other angel babies.
Bunny Bunny - Part 1
I want to write about something other than Alexandra today. I'm going to write about another innocent soul that was loved and will be missed. This post, and the one to follow are lovingly dedicated to my oldest nephew, who is only 8, but his grief has mimicked mine in so many ways and I hope that people remembering Bunny Bunny, as people remember my angel Alexandra, will one day help him to feel just a little bit better.
About three years ago Steve was out taking our dog for a walk. We lived in an apartment at the time and there was a field along the side of it that we often would walk the dog around. On this day, Steve was out with the dog and I was inside with Dayne. When the phone rang and Steve's cell phone number showed up, I thought the side door had closed and he had gotten locked out. This wasn't the case this time. He told me to throw some shoes on myself and Dayne and come outside because there was a bunny in the field.
I will be honest and say that I was a little annoyed. We lived by a few very large fields, in an area that had a ton of jack rabbits, a bunny was not interesting or exciting to me. Still, Dayne and I headed outside to see this phenomenal rabbit. When we got outside, I saw that the bunny was not a jack rabbit. It was a cute little floppy eared pet rabbit. I went right up to the rabbit and he didn't run away. I fed him a leaf and still he sat there. I knew then that this was someones pet.
As we stood there, wondering what to do, a woman came out of her house and told us that someone had left the bunny there and moved. The cage was over by the dumpster. We decided then that we couldn't leave the bunny there. It would probably not make it through the night and it was getting later. So, with nothing but an empty diaper box, we chased the little bunny around the field trying to catch him. When we finally caught the little guy, who we dubbed Bunny Bunny, we brought him into the apartment and Steve went to get his cage.
The bunny's cage had a thick, smelly coating of shavings and pee all over the bottom of it. It made me really sad, that's how the bunny lived. I begged Steve to keep the bunny. I was always begging Steve for animals that were in need of homes. It was a switch from a few years earlier when he was the one that would bring home stray animals.
He said no to the bunny, he didn't think it would be fair to the bunny or to dog. The bunny would have to be kept away from the dog and that meant locked in a room. I sadly agreed. I fed him some snap pees and baby carrots as well as some granola and sat with him for a long, long time. I wanted him so badly. In the morning I emailed everyone I knew and I posted on any website that might have someone that lived close by. I wanted to find the bunny a good home.
I ended up calling my sister to ask her if she could drive the bunny somewhere if we needed to. When she found out about the bunny, she got really excited. She told me that she had always wanted a pet rabbit. So, while her husband slept, she came over to my house and we went and bought food, treats and toys for Bunny Bunny.
My brother in law is a good man. He truly understands my sister's heart. So, while I'm sure he was annoyed that day, when he got up and found that there was a new member to their family, it made my sister happy and that was what mattered. From that day on, the bunny had a life that any other bunny would be jealous of. Spoiled, loved, cared for.
About three years ago Steve was out taking our dog for a walk. We lived in an apartment at the time and there was a field along the side of it that we often would walk the dog around. On this day, Steve was out with the dog and I was inside with Dayne. When the phone rang and Steve's cell phone number showed up, I thought the side door had closed and he had gotten locked out. This wasn't the case this time. He told me to throw some shoes on myself and Dayne and come outside because there was a bunny in the field.
I will be honest and say that I was a little annoyed. We lived by a few very large fields, in an area that had a ton of jack rabbits, a bunny was not interesting or exciting to me. Still, Dayne and I headed outside to see this phenomenal rabbit. When we got outside, I saw that the bunny was not a jack rabbit. It was a cute little floppy eared pet rabbit. I went right up to the rabbit and he didn't run away. I fed him a leaf and still he sat there. I knew then that this was someones pet.
As we stood there, wondering what to do, a woman came out of her house and told us that someone had left the bunny there and moved. The cage was over by the dumpster. We decided then that we couldn't leave the bunny there. It would probably not make it through the night and it was getting later. So, with nothing but an empty diaper box, we chased the little bunny around the field trying to catch him. When we finally caught the little guy, who we dubbed Bunny Bunny, we brought him into the apartment and Steve went to get his cage.
The bunny's cage had a thick, smelly coating of shavings and pee all over the bottom of it. It made me really sad, that's how the bunny lived. I begged Steve to keep the bunny. I was always begging Steve for animals that were in need of homes. It was a switch from a few years earlier when he was the one that would bring home stray animals.
He said no to the bunny, he didn't think it would be fair to the bunny or to dog. The bunny would have to be kept away from the dog and that meant locked in a room. I sadly agreed. I fed him some snap pees and baby carrots as well as some granola and sat with him for a long, long time. I wanted him so badly. In the morning I emailed everyone I knew and I posted on any website that might have someone that lived close by. I wanted to find the bunny a good home.
I ended up calling my sister to ask her if she could drive the bunny somewhere if we needed to. When she found out about the bunny, she got really excited. She told me that she had always wanted a pet rabbit. So, while her husband slept, she came over to my house and we went and bought food, treats and toys for Bunny Bunny.
My brother in law is a good man. He truly understands my sister's heart. So, while I'm sure he was annoyed that day, when he got up and found that there was a new member to their family, it made my sister happy and that was what mattered. From that day on, the bunny had a life that any other bunny would be jealous of. Spoiled, loved, cared for.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Angel Babies And What Others Call Them
I am very active on a parenting website. I have found it to be extremely helpful and supportive, not only now, but through the past 4 or 5 years. My favorite thing to do on this site is debate. I have always loved to debate, and have had so much fun debating with other moms. We debate and talk about every day things and parenting issues and I have learned so much from this particular site.
Recently a debate came up that was close to my heart because of my recent loss. The debate was about the term "corpse" in regards to our angel babies. Women that have experienced a loss are rightfully upset about this term. The words "corpse" or "cadaver" are not words we want associated with our children, they can sting. They are just words descriptive of reality, but sometimes, when reality stings this much, it is best to use softer words.
This debate has been weighing on my mind. I did comment on my own feelings and I worried after that my feelings may have hurt someone. My feelings are a little bit different than those that other angel mommies had.
I don't think that my daughter is a corpse. She is not. She is an angel, my sweet little angel. Her spirit is not buried there in the ground, her soul is where ever I am, where ever Steve is, where ever Dayne is. She is everywhere that we are, whenever we need her to be. I came to think of this after that first night, when it was so windy and I barely slept. I worried all night. When my grandma read this blog and saw me talking about it, she sent me an email. She told me that when my Grand-dad had passed away she felt the same way. She said she felt better about things when she thought about him as his spirit, rather than his body.
When my Grandma told me that, it made something click. My daughter is buried in the cemetery, but SHE is not, her spirit is not there, the most important part of her is not there. The burial was our way of saying goodbye. The plot a familiar place to visit, to spend time with our daughter. Like when you get together with family at a familiar place. My daughter is not stuck in the cemetery, not living there, she's not even there most of the time. Most of the time, she's with me, she's here with me. That makes me feel better.
But still, I picture her playing with the other angel babies in the cemetery and still it bothers me to think that people may run across her grave. Perhaps it's that, that is her special place, and like any other mom, I don't want her special place ruined for her.
I wonder if I will get to tell her all of this one day. All of my thoughts about her, all of my dreams. For now, I will meet her at the cemetery and tell her everything that comes to my mind. Perhaps that way, when we meet again, she will be all caught up.
Recently a debate came up that was close to my heart because of my recent loss. The debate was about the term "corpse" in regards to our angel babies. Women that have experienced a loss are rightfully upset about this term. The words "corpse" or "cadaver" are not words we want associated with our children, they can sting. They are just words descriptive of reality, but sometimes, when reality stings this much, it is best to use softer words.
This debate has been weighing on my mind. I did comment on my own feelings and I worried after that my feelings may have hurt someone. My feelings are a little bit different than those that other angel mommies had.
I don't think that my daughter is a corpse. She is not. She is an angel, my sweet little angel. Her spirit is not buried there in the ground, her soul is where ever I am, where ever Steve is, where ever Dayne is. She is everywhere that we are, whenever we need her to be. I came to think of this after that first night, when it was so windy and I barely slept. I worried all night. When my grandma read this blog and saw me talking about it, she sent me an email. She told me that when my Grand-dad had passed away she felt the same way. She said she felt better about things when she thought about him as his spirit, rather than his body.
When my Grandma told me that, it made something click. My daughter is buried in the cemetery, but SHE is not, her spirit is not there, the most important part of her is not there. The burial was our way of saying goodbye. The plot a familiar place to visit, to spend time with our daughter. Like when you get together with family at a familiar place. My daughter is not stuck in the cemetery, not living there, she's not even there most of the time. Most of the time, she's with me, she's here with me. That makes me feel better.
But still, I picture her playing with the other angel babies in the cemetery and still it bothers me to think that people may run across her grave. Perhaps it's that, that is her special place, and like any other mom, I don't want her special place ruined for her.
I wonder if I will get to tell her all of this one day. All of my thoughts about her, all of my dreams. For now, I will meet her at the cemetery and tell her everything that comes to my mind. Perhaps that way, when we meet again, she will be all caught up.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
May, 23, 2010
Today when we were at the cemetery I saw some things that really bothered me. First I saw a man walking his dog and smoking, he ashed and flicked the cigarette onto the ground. I was annoyed. I would like to bring my dog to the cemetery, he is a big part of my family and I would love for him to be there with us, but dogs are not allowed. I am a grieving mother, if I can respect the rules of the cemetery, why can't this guy just walking his dog?
Once we were there, I was sitting by Alexandra's grave and I watched as a father, his daughter and their dog ran across an entire row of graves. Why don't people teach their kids how to be respectful in a cemetery? This girl was about 10 years old, she was old enough to know better. Dayne is 4 and he knows not to walk across people's graves, you walk in between. How is that hard?
I was frustrated by the lack of respect. Alexandra's grave is a big mound of dirt still, when the ground there is flat and the grass has grown, will people be running across her grave, without any regard for our little angel buried there?
I tried to forget about the rude people of the world and spend a few quiet minutes there. Alexandra's pinwheel spun away and for a minute I felt peace.
When we left, I was glad to see a group of kids, it looked like a soccer team, they were there cleaning up the graves and headstones of the soldiers. What a kind thing to do. It was nice to see that there are some people that are respectful of the dead and the place where they lay.
Once we were there, I was sitting by Alexandra's grave and I watched as a father, his daughter and their dog ran across an entire row of graves. Why don't people teach their kids how to be respectful in a cemetery? This girl was about 10 years old, she was old enough to know better. Dayne is 4 and he knows not to walk across people's graves, you walk in between. How is that hard?
I was frustrated by the lack of respect. Alexandra's grave is a big mound of dirt still, when the ground there is flat and the grass has grown, will people be running across her grave, without any regard for our little angel buried there?
I tried to forget about the rude people of the world and spend a few quiet minutes there. Alexandra's pinwheel spun away and for a minute I felt peace.
When we left, I was glad to see a group of kids, it looked like a soccer team, they were there cleaning up the graves and headstones of the soldiers. What a kind thing to do. It was nice to see that there are some people that are respectful of the dead and the place where they lay.
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