With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair...

I was in my neurologist's office, talking about the increase in my migraines. She hemmed and hawed and finally said, "Michelle, I think you're depressed again."

Something about chronic pain and depression feeding off of each other, blah blah, and all I could think was, I KNOW, I've been here before, but I got better. Aren't I still better? Plus, my psychiatrist seems to think I'm okay... But all I could really do was start crying and say, "It's been a really bad week."

It didn't seem to matter; she said I was as dysphoric as she's ever seen me, so now I have to go to therapy again. I hate therapy - my secrets are perfectly fine hidden down deep where they belong.

...

We buried my grandfather almost two weeks ago, right next to my grandmother, in our family cemetery in Blackwater, Kentucky. It was humbling, to see the number of people who drove 180+ miles from Louisville to a tiny place that's not even on the map, a holler in the Appalachian foothills - all to attend the graveside service for my grandpa.

I heard several people say it at the funeral home, but I always feel like I said it first - Popa was the best man I've ever known.

You couldn't ask for a better legacy than that.

...

Popa's oldest son and I were in Popa's hospital room when the nurse came in and suggested we should start calling people. Pretty soon we had four more in there, plus our preacher. It was so crowded, and I just wanted everyone to leave - all I could think was, is Popa somehow hearing all this noise?

But there's really no tactful way to kick your own family out of the room.

So we waited, and Popa's breathing got more and more shallow. There were conversations going on around us, but my eyes were glued to Popa's chest - as long as he was breathing, he was okay. I noticed my brother doing the same thing. 

My brother and I clash a lot. We're extreme opposites, and also extremely similar, sometimes.

My grandpa's breathing stuttered a few times, which I had read was normal. The Hosparus wing that my grandfather was in was such a helpful, wonderful place. They let us know what was happening and what to look for, every step of the way. We were prepared.

Then, Popa took a breath, and then half a breath, and then he didn't breathe again.

I wasn't as prepared for it as I thought I was.

Sunday after the second Saturday...

This is my grandpa putting flowers on my grandma's grave for Decoration tomorrow.

I'm not sure why we started early.

If you're not from the Appalachians you may have never heard of Decoration Day. It's what the idea of Memorial Day came from. It warranted its own paragraph in Wikipedia under Memorial Day -

"Annual Decoration Days for particular cemeteries are held on a Sunday in late spring or early summer in some rural areas of the American South, notably in the mountains.
 

In cases involving a family graveyard where remote ancestors as well as those who were deceased more recently are buried, this may take on the character of an extended family reunion to which some people travel hundreds of miles.

People gather on the designated day and put flowers on graves and renew contacts with kinfolk and others.
 
There often is a religious service and a "dinner on the ground," the traditional term for a potluck meal in which people used to spread the dishes out on sheets or tablecloths on the grass.
It is believed that this practice began before the American Civil War and thus may reflect the real origin of the "memorial day" idea." 

This is my great- grandparents grave... I called them Ma and Pa but my Grandma, in true Appalachian fashion, called them Mommy and Daddy her whole life.

Further down this way in the Taylor Family Cemetery are the graves of my great great grandparents and my great great great grandparents.  Tomorrow morning the cemetery will be full of distantly related people we don't know and lots of firsts and second cousins we haven't seen since last Decoration.

This is my first Decoration since Moma's been gone.  Two years ago we all came down here for Decoration and my grandma was so sick - she would only live for another month after that. But she went everywhere with us. She was such a fighter.

I couldn't come the next year,... I had emergency surgery and couldn't get out of bed. 

So I've made trips in between to decorate her grave for the seasons, but this is different.  I've never been to Decoration without her.  What do I do, how do I act without her? This is her thing and I am just a supporting player with no one here to support.

I miss her so much.