Lambs, Calves, and Butterflies

We will forever be known by the tracks we leave. ~ Dakota tribe

As I listen to the stories of the lives that we honor each day in the funeral business, I often find myself fascinated by what I hear. The life we live daily effects so many others in ways that we can't imagine. We think that our daily grind is so boring or that no one would care about the things we do. But as bloggers, we get a subtle reminder from our readers that people are interested. It's something that many people never get to experience. We don't get to go to our own funerals and hear the wonderful things that people say about us. We don't get to hear the stories of how we touched their lives. 

It's something that I would tell anyone; that people do care and you are loved, more than you'll ever know.

It's been a busy week here in the lower Thumb of Michigan (check the map and you'll know what I mean). There have been a variety of people that we've had the privilege of honoring. We've had rich people, poor people, young people and old ones too. Thursday was a 90 year old woman. Her service was in town, but her burial was in a small country cemetery. A little town, that no one knows where it is when you mention it. I found this appropriate marker at the grave of an infant that was buried  sometime mid century. It's appropriate not only because of the innocence of the young child, but because the name of the town is Lambs.

Often when an older person dies, we don't see a big turn out for the funeral. The person's friends have often died before them and family is scattered and can't always make it. This one was different. She had a big family and they all seemed to stay here locally. They all loved their grandmother, even the ones that weren't related, and everyone showed up. The procession was a long one, both for distance and the number of cars. As we drove out to the cemetery, you could witness the signs of spring and rebirth everywhere. The wild lilies growing in the ditches, a young calf nuzzling against it's mother in a field. When we reached the little grave yard across from the tiny stone church, much of the processional cars were left on the road because there just wasn't enough room for the vast amount of mourners to fit in the cemetery. The children that were in attendance were very well behaved and you could tell that everyone there was  truly sorrowful. As often happens after the committal service, people disperse throughout the grounds of the cemetery looking for loved ones graves. It was such a peaceful place where you felt so at ease. I could see why someone would choose this place of rest. I found great joy watching as two little girls went picking dandelions and chasing butterflies.

Perhaps one of the greatest illusions, is that life could somehow be better than it already is.

I hope everyone is enjoying their weekend, and their life. Because everyone around you is enjoying having you in their lives.