[ I was blog-hopping last night and red about someones family friend passing away. Couldn’t help but get affected by it. It reminded me of family member and friends who crossed the rainbow bridge, I paid them a visit this morning. Said — hi, hello, I love you. ]
As a child I’ve always feared the cemetery, just the mere thought of even passing by cemetery gates gives me the creeps. I listened to too much ghost stories, that’s why. But times have changed and so does my confidence. I’ve learned the difference of reality and a childish imagination.
This morning, I went to see my grandmothers grave. Looks like someones been there earlier, my father brought my “lola’s” favorite flowers — white magnolias (it was beautiful). I looked around and it was green everywhere, I even smelled the scent of fresh cut grass; it was pristine. I took my time, sat on the ground and move my eyes in every direction. From where I was, seems the world is amicable and kind. The place I use to call creepy, is actually a place of love and serenity. A place where someone can lay down there fears, cast their burdens away and find that inner calm.