Wednesday, October 5, 2016


It is with some embarrassment and also some relief that I have to take back much of what I wrote in my last blog when I was so upset that two of the planters on my husband's grave had apparently been stolen.  I went to the office at the cemetery two days later, and inquired into it further, and they said it was impossible to police the entire cemetery and whatever we put on the graves was at our own risk.  The woman in charge also told me that according to the information they gave me when I bought the plot, we are really only supposed to put flowers in the metal vases that are included with the grave stone, because the groundskeepers have to mow around them and don't want to have to keep moving planters.  Although there is very little grass in the area around my husband's grave and I had been trimming it when I was there, I could see the point.  I told her that if someone had taken the plants and left the pots, and they had been taken behind the office, I would appreciate it if they let me know, and I would come and get them.  She told me that the groundskeepers had said if they had to move the other planters one more time, they would take them, too. 

That left me feeling even more dejected, but when I got up the next morning, I thought I'd better drive to the cemetery and get any of the three remaining planters that didn't fit on the gravestone so they wouldn't be taken as well. I drove over, and realized there was no way I could keep the large one there without covering up half the stone, so I called my son who came and helped me get it in the trunk so I could take it home.  After he left, one of the groundskeepers drove over in his cart, and asked, "Are these yours?"  There were the two missing planters, with all the plants! I thanked him for bringing them over--it was obvious that they hadn't fit on the gravestone--and he helped me squeeze them into the trunk as well, and told me the other two are fine on the gravestone.
I brought the three planters home, where they can remind me of my husband all day long. And the moral of the story is: don't always assume the worst because there is often a very different scenario that is much better.

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