It was simple, the unveiling.
Four of us.
Come to honor Ethel.
Her daughter from Atlanta.
Despite illness, pain.
Needing wheelchairs in the airport.
Making the trip with her husband.
To reveal the stone.
Ethel’s son and I.
Meeting them at the cemetery.
Removing gauze.
To exhibit the plaque.
Designed by Ethel.
Long before she passed.
Review the original gilt words:
Kindred Spirits Me and Thee
In Life and in Eternity.
Binding her to Mac.
Each relishing a second chance at marital love.
Until Mac departed nineteen years later.
We studied details.
Like we would a sculpture.
Glad the display outdoors.
In the thick of Spring.
When gardens overflowed with azaleas, irises, columbines.
Trees hung heavy with lilacs, empress blooms, honeysuckle.
Aromas luring Ethel’s spirit toward us.
Under cypresses.
For she, too, wanted to see the piece.
Marking her resting place.
Was it done correctly?
Everything in order?
Reminding us that GiGi referred to great-grandmother.
Title earned later in life.
Her energy picking up like wind.
Eager to chime in familial anecdotes.
We circled around to listen
till Linda’s hands, chilled.
Then we bid farewell,
conversation stilled.
Lynn Benjamin
May 16, 2024
