A Year of Blogging: April 6, 2011

April 6 was Plan Your Epitaph Day. I find this hilarious. Because I was actually discussing my headstone with my mom yesterday, on April 6. Let me explain. Although no doubt, it will all still seem incredibly morbid. When my father was a child, two of his sisters died as infants. His parents needed someplace to bury them, so my Grandpa bought a plot in one of the nearby cemeteries. I always wondered how they chose this cemetery. My Grandfather is Catholic, and the cemetery the family plot is in is not the Catholic one. Nor is the the cemetery to my Grandmother's church, which she attended from the day she was born. A couple of years ago, I sat down and talked to my grandparents about the family history. I spent a whole day with them, recording their stories on a tape recorder. The opportunity came up, so I asked them about the cemetery. Turns out, Grandma's parents had already purchased a plot in this cemetery when Grandma & Grandpa needed to buy one. This was even more puzzling, because Grandma's maternal Grandfather built the little mountain church her family attended. He was buried in the cemetery behind the church. Why didn't his daughter want to be buried there? Grandma said her mother didn't 'want to be buried on that damn mountain', so they chose a cemetery in the middle of town. Grandma and Grandpa bought their plot in this same cemetery. 13 months before my birth, my parents lost another little girl. Mom was very sick during the pregnancy, and even though she carried the baby to term, she was still-born. Mom and Dad were in the same situation Dad's parents had been in 20 years earlier. Grandma and Grandpa offered the family plot, and my sister was buried beside her two aunts. About 20 years ago, my grandparents decided it was time to put a headstone on the plot. The plot they have is large, it can accommodate 8 people I think. I believe the three babies are buried in one, I could be wrong. Grandma and Grandpa offered spots to my parents first, since their daughter was buried there. Grandpa's rule was your last name had to be Primeau to be buried there, as that is what is on the headstone. So Grandma & Grandpa, Mom & Dad, and one of Dad's brother's and his wife will be buried with the three babies. It didn't bother me the first time I saw Mom & Dad's name on the headstone. My sister was kind of creeped out, but I think she has adjusted to it. Each person has their name, as well as a little etching. Grandma has a cross or a Bible, Grandpa I think has the Navy logo. There are wedding rings connecting their two names. I forget what Mom has, but I know Dad has a racecar with the number 43 on it. While I interviewed Grandma and Grandpa about the family history, and we talked about the family plot, I asked if there was any room left. Grandma said there was. I asked if I could have it. I know, it's a little weird. I was 30 or 31 at the time. This is not the typical conversation you have with your grandparents. Grandpa said my last name had to stay Primeau. I told him even if I remarried, at this point, I would keep my name. I think my Dad was floored that I was asking about the cemetery! Grandma and Grandpa said I could have the spot. To me, it makes sense to go where the family is. We told Mom the plan, but nothing more has been said about it. After Grandma's funeral, I asked Dad to make sure my name got engraved on the stone while they were doing the engraving for Grandma. Might as well do it all at once. While Mom and I were emailing yesterday, she said Dad had been playing cards with Grandpa, and Dad told him I want my name put on the stone when they update Grandma's dates. Grandpa said that was fine, and he remembered my request to be buried there. Which leads me to the epitaph part. I told my mom I would like my full name to appear, but if there wasn't room for it, then I would at least like my first name and middle initial. She hasn't asked if I want an etching. And maybe I don't have to worry about that now. I can't decide anyway: what says 'Amy'? A beagle? A book? A teddy bear? A pen (I'm thinking the quill pen, just like I had on my class ring)? What identifies me, and when people see the stone in 100 years, they will know who I was, what was important to me? I'm thinking maybe just a question mark, because you can't define me in one little symbol. And that way, I'll leave them wondering....