Prompt Entry #6 - A Place of Sorrow

It was the place I saw you last, Granny.  No real place can spark such somber emotive as it is when I am here, looking at your gravestone.  It is always so quiet.  I remember when you were buried here, it was just as quiet as it is now.  It was toward the end of December when I last saw you over 5 years ago, snow blanketed the ground and the wind was so harsh.  I buried my face in Pap's chest as protection.  I thought for sure the pallbearers would fall carrying you to the plot, your final resting place.  When you were alive and we used to come here together to look at your family members passed, I never felt the way I do now when I come here.  I come here for you, even though I know you are with me always, everywhere.  Five years later and my sadness turns my mind and body mute when I look at your gravestone and think of your meaningful, former existence on the earth.  I still think of how proud you would be of me now, I wish you could have lived longer to see the woman I have become.  Pap is awful lonely since you left us.  Sometimes I think he wished it was him that went and not you.  Still, your memory lives with us.  We all miss your laugh most.  You were the one who introduced me to nature, and to God.  Of course, I imagine at how disappointed you would be, or are, if you knew how much I fight my own beliefs, constantly questioning, never accepting.  I am sorry for my continued doubts.   

Now when I sit on the log in front of your gravestone, in a fight with my beliefs, fighting both what I want to believe and don't want to believe, I think about how much I do hope there is another world where our souls go, and that your soul can see me and be with me, be proud of me.  After all, what is the point of this world if there is nothing better to go to?  I hope this isn't the be all end all, because this world has so much pain and sorrow in it, that when I sit here next to your final resting place, I think, there must be something better, a world untouched by wicked men, where our souls live on.  I sit here and think about what our next meeting will be like.  It is here where I imagine what life would be like now, five years later, with you still alive.  A constant flow of thought and regret and love and resentment.  This is certainly not a place for meditation, but contemplation, of this world and the next. 

The point of a graveyard seems absurd.  Only created for those who feel as if their loved one is not only literally buried there, but truly buried there, soul and all.  For those who believe that going to the graveyard is the only way to feel close to that loved on.  But I know that that decaying body in the coffin six feet below is only your shell.  Your lively, beautiful soul must be somewhere else.  Far from here, but still in my own heart.  And yet, I always feel a sense of depression and betrayal turning my back to your gravestone and leaving.  But I know you are still with me, and Mom, and Pap, and Burlin.  Please don't ever leave.