If I were going with my father to a graveside during his life, the flowers would be much different, rather more formal and likely from a florist. Many years ago he may have grimaced at the bouquet I took to his graveside yesterday. Even in his final years, however, I believed he would have smiled and laughed and accepted my Autumnal offering as a genuine token of me, as I am sure is doing now. Some lovely leaves helped frame the gravestone, and this amazing tree is very nearby.
Believing my father to be in quite a different place, I am not entirely sure what to make of and do by a gravestone. Nonetheless, it is a very literal touchstone to a dearly loved person, and so I lay in the grass for a while, thought and cried and prayed a little. Then, thinking of his smooth head with wispy hairs, it was a kiss on his name and on the cross and then off to see my brother.