There's a somebody I'm longing to see
I hope that she turns out to be
Someone who'll watch over me

I'm a little lamb who's lost in the wood
I know I could always be good
To one who'll watch over me

A couple weeks ago, Ben and I slept over at my Dad's place, the house were I grew up. It was a little weird to sleep in my old bedroom, which had been converted into a guest room. The bed is in a different place, the drawers are against the other wall, the drapes are different, the floor is now polished wood, rather than my shaggy mauve carpeting.

Its always great to come "home" again. I call it home, because to me, it will always be home. It doesn't matter that my dad has changed the flooring, added new things to the walls or, the thing that bugs me most - rearranged the items in the kitchen drawers (come on now, it takes me 5 minutes to just find a spoon!) - it will always be home to me.

We went to church the next day, which hasn't changed as much as our house. Ben was an active little bugger, and I took him to the back of the church midway through mass. He had a great time walking around the back, trying to go down the stairs to the church basement, talking to other people in the back...he was a little clown.

Afterwards, we went to the cemetary to visit my mom's grave.

Now, I haven't brought Ben to my mom's gravesite yet. It's not that I haven't wanted to, but I just haven't found the time or the occasion to. I know that it would also be a very hard thing for me to do. It's hard enough for me to go there without him. This was the first time he went there.

Before that day, I had imagined a hundred times what it would have been like. We drive up there, just the two of us...maybe I would bring a blanket so we can just sit and chat with his Lola (grandmother). As soon as we get to the gravesite, I would be holding him in my arms, and I would say, "Mommy, this is Benjamin. Benjamin, this is your Lola." Then I would bust out in tears and sob and sob, with poor little Ben trying to figure out what was going on. I would then throw myself on her grave and beat the earth, wailing and trying to catch my breath. It would take me hours to recover.

But it wasn't like that. Probably because my dad was there, too, and I always tend to throw up the emotion dampener when he's around. We got to her gravesite, and Ben toddled next to us. He stood upon my mom's grave and started picking on the grass. I told him to get off because it was rude to step on his grandmother. We said a couple prayers as Ben explored around him. No tears, no wailing, the earth did not feel the wrath of my pounding fists. Just a well of emotion knowing that my mom was watching over us, smiling, and probably rolling her eyes at the realization that I am grooming a Mini-Yano.

I still miss her a lot. She would have loved Benjamin and spoiled him rotten. I can't let another year go be before visiting her with Benjamin again. I want to make sure he knows his Lola and the incredible woman that she was.

Posted by Yano at July 6, 2007 03:01 PM

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