Every single day I go to visit Enoch’s grave. I need to. And for whatever reason, every single day I take a picture. I don’t know why. I just do.
I know the quickest, easiest way to get to the back of the cemetery where the little black converse and legos mark his grave.
Everyday is pretty much the same. I go, brush off any debris on those few items marking his gravesite, chat with him for a bit, and then leave. It’s what I do. Every day.
On days that the shoes and legos are buried in snow, I find myself crying more. Although several people have suggested putting them in a clear plastic box, I can’t. I need those items to not feel distant. He’s already so distant. Plus it’s the only thing I have to care for of Enoch’s. I am never going to bathe, feed or clothe my son, but at least I can care for the little black converse on his grave.
One day recently as I drove around the bend and to his grave, I noticed things were out of place. As I got closer, I saw that the legos were broken and upside down. His shoes were dirty, and the ground beneath him had obviously been disturbed. I fell apart. What happened? Who messed with his gravesite? Why would they do that?
I quickly text Tim a picture and asked most of the questions I stated above. He called immediately and then came to comfort me. As Tim investigated, he realized the cemetery needed to add additional dirt because the ground was sinking some. That is what they did, but apparently not taking into account the impact their carelessness would have on this mom’s heart.