That person visiting the cemetery is me

From my journal dated July 30, 2002:

Yesterday was Jason’s birthday. It was a tough day for me. Oh, my precious boy. I miss you so much! It’s hard to be here, knowing you’re gone.

I had to go to school in the morning. As I went by the crash site, I about lost it. Someone had tied a balloon onto the cross. After class, I stopped by a flower shop and got some flowers to take to the cemetery.

Floral Hills Cemetery

I look at cemeteries differently now. I used to be distanced from them. A cemetery was a place I looked at and felt sorry for the poor people who were burying a loved one or visiting a gravesite. Now I feel compassion, empathy, and a kinship to the people who are there…which is entirely different than “feeling sorry for.” Now that person at the cemetery isn’t some disconnected entity…it’s me, visiting the graves of my son and his friend who were killed in the prime of their lives.