Visiting Dead Relatives

Hubby's retirement hasn't brought us the quiet, relaxation that I thought it would.  It seems that he is still farming like he has to get it all done at the same pace he would have in his two half days off!  My dreams of early suppers and quiet evenings watching the fireflies, are dead and gone.  (Partially, since it doesn't get dark until I am ready for bed.)  We are still working from "get up to go down", especially with summer fast upon us.


However, this spring Hubby endured a little forced leisure from a minor medical issue.  Feeling fine, but unable to drive or do any physical work, he was beginning to drive me crazy.  (He says it doesn't take long because I don't have far to go!)  So, one beautiful morning, I sprang my trap.  "Honey", I inquired as I sipped my coffee, "do you remember promising to take me to visit the dead relatives?"


"Ummm ", he mumbled around his toast, eyeing me warily.  "Which dead relatives?"


Last fall, in one of my periodic spurts of working on the family tree, I had discovered several dates that I didn't have recorded.  Most of them could be found in the old cemeteries in the county we grew up in.  Hubby, in a mellow moment, promised to take me to search out the old stones.  Fall and winter passed with no "suitable" time to make the journey.  (Farmers tend to only take off days that are rainy, snowy, or basically too miserable to be outside.  Hardly the days to tromp around in old cemeteries.)


Homing in for the kill, I smiled. "It's a beautiful day and if you stay here on the farm you'll just go nuts wanting to be out doing something.  Besides, you are the one who knows where the little VonGruenigen cemetery is.  I'd be lost for a week if I tried to find it."  Laughing, he agreed, "You'd get lost in a bathtub if you didn't have a road map!"


Soon we were on our way to visit dead relatives. 


The fun thing about going back to the place where you grew up are the memories that flood into your mind.  Before we even got to town, Hubby was yelling at me to "turn in, turn in here!"  He had spied an old schoolmate riding around mowing his front yard.  Nothing would do but we stop and visit for a while. He and his wife, graciously interrupted their work to catch up on old times.  We left an hour later, feeling warm, refreshed and 18 years old again for a few minutes.  The warm fuzzy lasted but we lost the 18 year old feeling pretty quickly!


The first stop was to the Buffalo Springs Cemetery located just outside of Stanford.  Originally, it was beside the fort built by Benjamin Logan when he and a group of settlers established the little town of St. Asaph.  The old part still contains stones from the late 1700's.  The little gravel roads led in neat squares through the neatly mowed rows of stones.  Interspersed were statues and large monuments, towering old trees, flowering shrubs, and spring flowers.  The feeling was peaceful and friendly.  Driving slowly through the graves I caught myself calling out to old friends.  "Look!  There is Aunt Lucille!"  "Here are the Matheny's.  What ever happened to their son?"  "Do you remember my grandmothers friend, Sara?  Here she is!"


Finding the Campbell section, near the front under a shady, old tree, I happily begin scribbling down dates and names.  Hubby backed me up by taking pictures of the stones and their location.  Chore finished we started wandering and making discoveries. 


Just a few stones over we discovered a stone for a gentleman and his two wives.  After looking at it for a minute, I realized that he had married sisters!  The older sister had died and he had married her younger sister.  Convenient.  It must have been a happy arrangement since they were all buried in the same plot.  Unlike my grandfather's grave, which we found in another section.  He was buried with his first wife and her three infants and one grown daughter that they had.  His second wife, my grandmother chose to be buried in another cemetery entirely! 


After gathering some more dates and pictures we decided to strike out for the little VonGruenigen cemetery.  Hubby lost me at the first turn.  We wandered down little narrow roads until we were in an area behind his grandfathers original farm.  "I think we go this way."  he pointed to the right.  "I believe it's down a hill and then in a curve."  "Slow down.  Yes! right here!"  Sure enough there was a little group of headstones, surrounded by a neat fence.  Finding a place to pull off the narrow road, we walked back only to be confronted by a sturdy gate.  Peering into the neatly groomed graveyard we sighed, wondering if we would have to climb the fence.  Smiling, Hubby reached through to the latch and with a little jiggle and a shove soon had it open enough for us to squeeze through.


The space held about two dozen graves, surrounded by a few trees, shrubs and clumps of spring blooming flowers.  On one side a bench had been placed for family to rest from their tending of the area or just to meditate and remember.  These were some of the names from the early Swiss settlers that had come to Lincoln Co. in the late 1800's.  Here were Ganders, Camenisches, and VonGruenigens.  I spied the stone I was looking for.  Lydia VonGruenigen Coleman, Hubby's mother's sister.  Dying many years after her husband she had chosen to be buried in this small cemetery.  She had moved from Detroit after his death and had spent her last years with her widowed sister in Stanford.  Then I saw why.


Nestled down in the grass beside Aunt Lydia's marker was another small stone.  Under a carving of a small angel were the words:
                                        Shirley Ann Coleman
                                         B.    9-17-1927
                                         D.    2-21-1928
Aunt Lydia's little girl, who had lived a short five months.  Her only child. 


I had assumed that she had never had children, but her mother's heart had mourned and yearned for her tiny daughter throughout her life.  At the end, she only wanted to be laid to rest next to her.


Cemeteries are far from being gloomy and scary places but rather full of stories of love and devotion....and sometimes even a chuckle.