by Diane Albergo
It's a picnic unlike any other in my past. I pack my blanket for sitting on the grass, I dress according to the weather, and sometimes I even pack something to eat. When I arrive, the sun shines, the trees shade, and the only sounds are the birds chirping and the breeze blowing. So what is different then. Well, there are children where I picnic but they are not running and playing. Instead, they are memories and heartfelt emotions carved in marble-individualized by flowers, pinwheels, balloons, and anything special carefully placed by the loved ones they left behind. Now I picnic at the cemetery, that's what's different.
My baby Christopher has taught me, among many other things, that the cemetery is a beautiful place. When he died of SIDS on February 24, 1993, part of me died, too. When he was buried two days later, part of me was buried, too. As a result, his final resting place has come to be a place where I can devote myself only to him. While I think of Christopher constantly, my thoughts are too often interrupted by everyday life. Sometimes I want to just scream to the world "STOP, my baby is dead." But I can't do that and even if I did, no one would listen. When I go to the cemetery, however, the world does stop and it gives me a chance to put my thoughts in order. I can think about the dreams of Christopher that will never come true, I can try to figure out how I am going to move forward (or at least get through the day) without him.
At first the cemetery was an awkward place. I didn't feel that Christopher was there and when I saw his name and picture on his headstone it intensified my pain beyond belief. But I didn't give up. I kept going back (as often as every day) and it soon became a haven for my thoughts, and a place to escape the judgment of this outside world. I can read a book, or write a poem, or just spend time gazing at the surroundings, trying to understand how this could happen. I know Christopher is not there now, but it is there that his precious lifetime is forever recorded as a lasting memory.
While the cemetery is not this kind of place for all surviving parents, I hope that everyone has a special place that they can too be one with the memories of their precious child.
In memory of Christopher Albergo, who I will picnic with forever...
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