Yesterday I posted about my Mother as my Matrilineal/Military post.
Today I would like to show you her beautiful stone.
This is a black, polished granite. The surname is engraved in a large, bold lettering. In the left corner, you will find a photograph of my Dad and Mom on their honeymoon in December 1958. Dad will lie on the left, and you see the inscription for him there. Mom lies on the right. Her name, Lois Velleda, with birth and death date are engraved on the lower right. In the center are the depiction of the praying hands. You can see a small angel to the lower left of center, but it is a reflection of a small angel that adorns the grave.
I'm afraid I haven't taken a photo of her military memorial, which is at the foot of the grave. It is a flat bronze plaque memorial.
My sister visits often, even though the journey is well over an hour for her, and keeps the grave adorned with flowers and decorations that reflect the season.
The grave sits at the top of a very steep hill. I have sarcoidosis of the lungs and the climb is never easy for me. And then, I always get emotional when visiting, so I haven't been back but a couple of times. The climb, and my emotions companied with the difficulty breathing during the climb, leave me so drained that I simply am exhausted for days afterward. (Terrible excuse I know, but I stand by it.)
I have no doubt, as I stand there looking at the stone that Mother would have been proud of it. She so loved that photograph of her and Dad. And she would love the little decorations my sister so lovingly places there.
I hope in time I will feel I can visit it more often.
One day, hopefully not for a long while, I will be placed to the left of Dad's grave, and by his feet.
This is located at Mount Zion Union Church cemetery, located in Waiteville, Monroe County, West Virginia. The cemetery is nearly full. The large, beautiful oaks that once adorned, and shaded the cemetery, were cut down this past year. It has left the cemetery rather stark. But the little white church that sits at the bottom of the hill has been there for nearly 150 years. And within the confines of the cemetery lie most of my aunts and uncles, my grandparents, my grandfather's siblings and their families, and my great-grandparents. It seems like a good place to rest these old bones when the time is right. Perhaps then my children, too, will climb the hill to visit.
And that is a comfort.