Online journal of West Virginia Storyteller Granny Sue.
I can't imagine such an experience. Hugs to you, Granny. Please know that you're in my thoughts as you work through your grief.
Wordless indeed. It's such a beautiful place -- though I can't yet imagine visiting my son there, or leaving again. xox
Leaving is the hard, hard part. It's a long drive to get there-6 hours-and then once I do, I don't want to leave.
A hard lot, Sue. Can only imagine that pain and dispair and wanting to cling to the physical reminders of your beloved son. As I have no other way to comfort or hug you, I again wish you courage and strength and Faith -- and loving, supportive family and friends.
It's a beautiful place. But not nearly as beautiful as the place where he is now. Still, your heart hurts and mine hurts with you. blessings, marlene
I wouldn't call it despair, Nance, but just sorrow and the loneliness of knowing we'll not see him again in this lifetime. I remind myself that he was truly, truly loved, and that is a blessing not everyone enjoys.And Marlene, you're right. I need to remember that. Thank you saying it.
Connie, I could not imagine it either, but here I am--like many mothers before me. Their silent company is somwhow comforting. If they could do this, I can.
Oddly enough when Jen posted the pic on Memorial Day my first thought was "Huh, there is grass there now." I guess it was a little bit of a shock that time has and did move on. The season has changed. And the red clay is now covered with grass and clover. An odd observation I know. Its those weird realizations that really wake you up.
I was glad to see the grass; when we were there in April it was still bare ground. It will look much better with the new stone. Larry got a smile out of the Confederate flag next door to Jon.
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