Skip to main content

Life keeps on going

Hey look, my blog's all different now! It needed a change. Yes, I know it looks like a frumpy sweater but...its a cute frumpy sweater, yeah?

Today for Memorial Day, I went with my parents, siblings and grandparents to the Pleasant Grove Cemetery to visit the graves of some relatives. There was remembrance hanging heavy in the air today, some sorrow, some grief, and somehow...it felt peaceful, restful and quiet. I sat by the grave of my great-great grandparents and listened to my grandfather tell stories about his polygamist grandfather living in the Mormon colonies in Mexico. I felt a connection to these people I'd never met, that somehow they are inextricably a part of my life in every way. I felt, not like an individual, but like a single thread in an enormous tapestry of my family.
We also went to visit Brandon's grave. My cousin Brandon died when he was 6 years old, 6 years ago this Saturday. I was 13 years old when he died. I remember feeling such intense emotional turmoil, as if a hole had been ripped violently into my heart. At the same time, I felt a numbness and an emptiness that terrified me. I didn't think it could be real, didn't think it was fair. Brandon's death made me realize, for the first time, that I wasn't immortal, and neither was my family. It shook the foundations of my world, and I think I'm still dealing with some of the psychological repercussions. However, I didn't suffer the loss alone. My entire extended family banded together and leaned on each other for support, for comfort. From this experience, I also learned how to turn to God for comfort and for healing, and to continue living in the face of adversity.
As I stood in the cemetery, I listened to my grandpa talk to a cousin he'd encountered. "It's been 6 years already?" said the cousin, referring to Brandon's death, "It doesn't seem that long."
"Well," replied my wise grandfather, "Life keeps on going."
As I looked around the cemetery, I saw two little girls running happily among the graves, playing tag. I saw my brothers and sisters talking and laughing. I saw living, vibrant flowers placed on tombstones, and young saplings growing to bring shade to visitors. I saw life continuing, beautiful and bright in the face of tragedy.

Life keeps on going.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

In which I need to figure out what happiness is made out of

Let me tell you a secret:

During my month working at camp this summer, I think I took my medication...twice.

And guess what?

I was fine. No, I was happy.

Let me tell you another secret:

Last week, I only took my medication twice.

And...

I was not fine. I was miserable. The world fell apart and I found myself crying about things like not being able to eat at Chick-Fil-A because I'd forgotten my debit card.

And so I've been asking myself...what made the difference? Why could I be blissfully content without my medication at camp, if I still depend on it for my happiness back at home?

There has to be something, and if I only could put my finger on it...

Maybe it was singing all day, everyday, sailor songs and whaling songs and songs about nature and songs about fish heads and songs about friends, just letting my voice ring out because that's what humans do, they sing.

Maybe it was always having opportunities to help others, or seeing the effects of my work with my own eyes. Ma…

In which I smatter a disjointed smattering of thoughts.

I think I'm a morning person at heart. I love feeling like I'm the only one awake, like I have a head start on the rest of the world. I love the pink-grey-gold of morning air, the streaks of sunrise peeking from behind the mountains. I love the prattle of birds welcoming the day, the quietness of a still-sleeping world. Unfortunately, my circadian rhythm doesn't share this love of the early hours, making me wired with energy late at night and sluggish in the early hours. So...mind over matter, I guess?

My dear friend Bekah is back from her mission and I'm remembering how much I adore her and her blog. This morning I was 25 minutes late to a choir rehearsal because I was rediscovering her writing. And it was probably worth it.
So this one time a few weeks ago, I was in a band. We played at the ward talent show, had big plans to try out for Acoustic Explosion, and then kind of fell apart.. But it was a good run. There's something magic about the artistic collaboratio…

In which I eat the breakfast of champions

I had ice cream for breakfast today. And also yesterday. And I know that's super unhealthy, and I'm trying to make better choices and lose weight, and all of that, but hear me out. We were out of all of the breakfast foods. No cereal or milk. No bread for toast. No eggs. No yogurt to put in a smoothie. All we had was oatmeal. Don't get me wrong, I love oatmeal. But the past several times I've tried to make it, it has exploded all over the inside of my microwave. It even happens if I take the oatmeal out and stir it halfway through cooking. Maybe this microwave is hotter than my old one? I don't know. Maybe I've wronged it somehow and this is its revenge. So this morning I was sitting in the kitchen trying to decide if it was worth it to make a bowl of oatmeal when most of it would end up splattered around the inside of the microwave when finally, I got too hungry to make the decision anymore and just got myself a bowl of chocolate ice cream instead. And then an…