Fifty Six Years Later…

We never made it to the cemetery before we moved to Utah, and it left me feeling guilty. It felt like I moved away and never said goodbye to my daughter. That probably sounds strange, but those who have buried a loved one will probably be more likely to understand. So Memorial Day weekend we decided to pack up our car and made the 3 1/2 hour drive home to Idaho. 

When we pulled into the cemetery I immediately noticed we weren’t alone. There are two groups of family plots next to Preslee’s headstone that tend to go all out when decorating. Sometimes they don’t even take the decor down from the last couple of holidays, so it will look like a rainbow of colors surrounding their loved ones. My style, is more simple, I like Preslee’s headstone to be the focus. But there is no judgment on my end, I’ve grown to appreciate the contrast. But I was curious to finally see who the people were behind the scenes.

There were about 4-5 elderly people standing just a few feet away from our plots. They had multiple bins on the grass with their contents dumped out. They were decorating a handful of headstones with silk flowers, windmills, and I noticed a teddy bear. But out of all the headstones being decorated, there was one that received quite a bit more attention than the others. I was hoping they would leave before we did, so I could take a closer look.

One of the people, an elderly lady eventually walked over. She seemed liked a character, dressed quite fashionably in a long fur coat, her short hair curled, and very large sun glasses covering her eyes. I couldn’t help but instantly like her. She complimented my large pot of flowers, I explained I always buy something to take home - to remember our daughter throughout the summer. She walked to the front of the headstone, and read the dates. “Two?” My stomach dropped, “No, just 18 months.” Thinking, “We were robbed six months.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,”  she quietly said, and as she turned around to face me, she said, “I also lost my daughter at…about that same age.” I immediately expressed my condolences. We spoke about a few things, when I finally asked, “Can I ask how you lost your daughter?”

I saw a look come over her face that seemed all too familiar: “Oh, it really was horrible. So long ago…I was a young mom, cleaning my house. I had a flimsy mop bucket that only had a few inches of water in it. My kids were playing and I left the room for a short minute, when my son came running to me and said ‘She’s dead!’ I thought maybe she was napping on my bed, but to my horror I found her head first in the mop bucket.”

She went on to explain that toddler’s heads are heavier than their body, and they can literally drown in a couple inches of water. She then said, “It broke me. I idolized my little girl, she meant everything to me. She was only 14 months old.”  I recognized the tone in her voice, I was aware of how she said it, it’s the same tone I use when explaining Preslee drowned, people are so quick to judge the parents.

But there was no judgment present, because my heart ached for not only her, but for me. The pain was so obviously present while she told her story, that I couldn’t help but ask, “How long has it been?” She replied, “You know, I’m old now, I’m not quite sure.” A lady, who I later learned was her sister, and standing a few feet away called out, “1959.”

In my head, 1959! 1959?  Thats…56 years! Fifty six years and the pain is still this raw at times? I panicked. We’re approaching 5 years, 50+ more years of this? Ugh. Even though deep down I knew that grief will always be apart of my life, at that moment, I felt defeated. Fifty six years seemed just too much to bare. I looked the sweet lady in the eyes and gave her a hug and said, “Our daughter also drowned.” She gasped, “You’re kidding me! I didn’t know with it only being a few years, if you could talk about it yet.”

I assured her I could and proceeded to tell her the story. She kept hugging me over and over again.

As she walked back over to her family headstones’ she paused in front of the one that was decorated a little more than the others. I instantly knew it was her daughter’s. Still, 56 years later, I understood so much of her life, and yet, I just met her.

Now that it’s June, and the kids are out, please, please be careful when around any type of water. Whether it be a swimming pool, mop bucket, or canal, it only takes a couple of seconds for a child to drown. People often ask me if swimming is hard for me? Though it’s stressful, and I definitely have my moments, sometimes I struggle more watching the people around me. I’ll admit I’m paranoid, but there has been more than one time that I’ve actually moved locations at a pool, because parents aren’t paying attention to their children. I begin to panic for them, and I feel like I need to silently watch their kids. And I can’t possibly watch my three, along with a complete stranger’s kids. I’m not judging them, I’m just nervous because I know what stems from a drowning,, and I don’t wish that upon anyone.  Click {here} for some helpful tips for parents when swimming with your kids this summer.

I hope your summer is sunny, hot, and safe. 

Love to you all.