Of Death.....and Wildflowers

    Saturday we went to our language teacher's wife's funeral. She was only 48 years old and she lay in her elaborate casket, her face sprinkled with gold glitter. She had been a sweet, quiet woman that always blessed my heart every time i was around her. Which wasn't often, but often enough to make an impression on me. She and her husband had lost several children in excruciating ways and i couldn't help but rejoice for her that she is now free. I think part of her heart was in heaven for a very long time.



   As is part of mine.

   Friday we made our farewell visit to Hadassah's grave. I struggled over going. I was afraid of the pain and seriously considered not going, since we all know that she's not really there but somehow i thought we needed to go for closure. Especially Emily and i. So after visiting our friends who live near there, we trekked over to the church where she's buried. I had debated over buying roses to put on her grave but left it go and after being there, i knew why. The little ones started gathering wild flowers and laying them on the cross that the boys had made for her. The cross was lying down when we got there, so we set it back up and i watched the little's joy as they ran around, shouting with great delight as they gathered bunches of frail, windblown flowers. It was then that i realized that wildflowers fit Hadassah so much better than cultured roses. She was our little wildflower, too delicate and frail to stay with us, badly as we wanted her.

  So how do i feel about leaving her grave behind? For the most part i'm ok with it. I think sometimes we may focus to much on the grave of a loved one and it can actually keep us from releasing and healing. On the other hand, the closer we come to leaving, the more i think of her. I find myself wondering what she would be like if she had lived. So i have a lot of mixed emotions but then Kenya itself holds a lot of mixed up feelings for me. A lot of tears and joy, threaded with a frail pink that's Hadassah.