It was a beautiful and difficult day in May when we had a small graveside service to bury my mom's ashes.
My dad had printed this picture and taped it to my mom's box and it sat there in his room for quite some time.
But we all felt like it was time to have a graveside service and do this one last earthly act for her.
I snapped this picture before these two rode off to the cemetery. I'm certain my dad was not crying, but I caught his hand at the wrong moment.
This solemn picture is so lovely to me. I hope these two--the youngest of the grandkids--can keep a memory or two of her throughout their lives.
We sang a hymn, prayed, and took turns saying a few words and thoughts.
She gets to be buried with my grandpa and grandma Allen. My dad will someday be buried there as well.
Perry wanted the honor of placing her box in the grave. He loved his Grammie so much.
We each took a turn to shovel some dirt. It felt like the last earthly act of service we could do for her.
I wore my flip flops in honor of my mom. She was always barefoot or in flip flops.
I'm grateful for the semblance of closure this graveside service gave us. I miss her every day though.
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