My gramma died three months before I met Mike. I have always been so sad they never met, they would have gotten along so well. After Mike and I had been dating for a while, I asked him to go with me to the cemetery where my gramma’s ashes are buried. I knew he was a keeper when he said yes.

Now that we’ve moved, we’re much closer to the cemetery. I’ve gone countless times over the years, but they were all planned-out trips. It makes me happy to know that I can stop by to visit on my way home from running an errand. And I do.

Yesterday my mom and I went to the cemetery, and I brought Annie along. I haven’t brought her since she started walking because I had visions of her running up and down the rows, pulling flowers out of vases and generally causing massive destruction. I don’t know if I got her on a good day, or if she’s just at a good stage, but she was perfect at the cemetery.

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She walked around a bit at first (with me close behind) but she really just wanted to stay close to me and my mom. She was VERY interested in helping my mom with the purple flowers we’d brought.



I reminded her that we were visiting my grandma and great-grandma, her great-grandma and great-great-grandma. She said, “Gamma?” and looked at my mom. She didn’t get it…or maybe she did, in a way.


As Annie walked in a small circle around the headstone, I picture my gramma’s smile and remembered her laugh. She would have laughed SO much at my funny Annie. My little performer would have loved making her great-grandma laugh.

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When we were ready to leave, my mom grabbed Annie’s hand and lead her back to the car. My gramma used to hold my hand and lead me, too.