When Bruce was alive, he gave his students an interesting project to do. He called it the cemetery project and had them go to a cemetery and spend some time observing the headstones. They would often come away with interesting tidbits about the people who were buried there. Ironic now that i spend time in a cemetery visiting his grave. Yesterday, I ordered the headstone, something that i should have gotten taken care of in the first year.
Part of the small steps that i am now making to move through the grief, the headstone is yet another thing i must push myself to do. Visiting the grave is a strange experience. i know that i am in the cemetery, but i am really just visiting a patch of grass-and i am never quite sure that the patch of grass is the right one. It is a beautiful location overlooking Newport Beach, and the rolling lawns and the gravestones of others, make it a peaceful place to come. i am not sure what to do with myself while i am there so i usually wander. i do my own little cemetery project, noting the gravestones and information about Bruce's neighbors. i can't help thinking about what he would say if he were watching over me.
i am so aware of the resistance that i have to fully integrating his death. But i push myself now because i know it is the right thing to do. i hope that it brings me some comfort finally. i guess there is no other option.