Heart of stone

I think I might have been lying a little bit when I wrote last time that I had nothing to write about. I think it would have been more accurate to say that I was working a little to avoid writing about something.

Trying to do what I can with this semi-lockdown state we’re in, I’ve started taking periodic bike rides. I’m under no illusion that this is going to get me into great shape, but it’s better than nothing and maybe delays the day on which I’ll have to go up a pants size. During my bike ride on Saturday, I came across a stonemason’s display and saw the first headstone I’ve seen since this all started that made me think of Colin.

The headstone is a tough one. On the one hand, I hate that we still only have the wooden cross at his grave. Like I worry the other people tending graves there will think we’re slackers who aren’t even trying. On the other, I kind of like the cross. On the other, we all have to agree on the headstone. On the other, it’s hard getting out to shop for shoes these days, so let’s not start talking about grave markers.

But I think the real issue is that, once we pick a headstone and have it set there, there really won’t be anything left we can do for Colin. It’s not much, and it’s certainly of little use to him, but if we get a good headstone that actually feels like something he would have liked, then it will feel like we did that job right. And then – aside from tending the grave – there won’t really be anything we can do for him. Sure, I can keep up my writing, though one wonders how much of that is for him and how much is for me. I guess I could still try to talk the health care writers at work into doing an expose about home health care incompetence, but let’s face it: Health care reporters are a little distracted these days. Maybe I liked having this one last parental job to do. Maybe putting a headstone down and finishing the grave will be too final for me. I just don’t know.

The good news is that I showed the picture to Christina and the kids and they all liked it. We went out yesterday and visited the store and actually found a very similar headstone, meaning we also have a choice. But then I write this out and I ask what’s become of my world that this can even masquerade as good news.

Buying a headstone for your child is an odd thing. After we’d spent about 20 minutes there, Christina turned to me and said she thought the saleswoman didn’t think we were acting distraught enough. Which seemed in equal turns ridiculous and so clear to me, because I never know these days when I’m supposed to act happy and when I’m allowed to harsh everyone’s buzz and point out that the kids won’t be around for a cookout because they’re going to a program for bereaved siblings that week. Beyond that, there were the details. Us wondering if the stone was too large for the site. Negotiations about the color of the stone and the corners of the cut rock. Finding out how much a headstone costs (far more than I expected; less than Christina had assumed). The saleswoman didn’t keep her distance from us, which jars me so much in this time of Covid-19, but then I figured what do we care at this point? And then I wonder if you work in a business like this and you just don’t worry about death any more.

We drafted a proposed text for the stone and the next morning Christina had an email with the words imposed on a picture of the stone, which I haven’t seen yet, but sounds far realer than I was prepared to be on this front at this point.

Assuming we go ahead and get it – we still want the kids to sign off – it could be up in weeks. Then what? Does one have an unveiling ceremony for such a thing? Do you just watch the workers put it in and then have a bit of a cry? Does it make the grave finished? Will it be enough?

I know it’s weighed on me. I’m not having my worst day today, but I’m not having my best one either. I’m on Day 4 of vacation and I can feel that I’ve been running myself ragged trying to keep busy around the house, but if I stop and try to do nothing, I’m not happy with that either (hence my newfound love for crossword puzzles, I think). But it feels like it should be done, so here we go. Christina’s already done some great work landscaping the grave. This won’t be nearly enough, but let’s hope it’s at least the right thing.