Walking on Stones in Dress Shoes

After my grandmother died, we drove to the Upper Peninsula where she had lived all but three of the years of her life.  There was a graveside service at the cemetery in Cedarville, right around the corner on Four Mile Block road.  She was buried amongst all the Rudds, even though the larger lot of them hadn't been that hospitable to her at first, quiet allusions to her embarrassing finnish roots, a mother-in-law, Bertha, who was sure that non of her children's suitors were good enough for her children, but all the same they mostly ended up buried close to her.  Afterward we went to the cottage that she had turned into a retreat.  Wearing our suits, we skipped stones and walked on the rocky shoreline.

Terry and I are the oldest of her grandchildren and it seems like maybe the ones most influenced by her stories and this picture feels precisely magical because it captures all of her nostalgia for times gone by and a place of peace and quiet.  It was chilly, but not too chilly and it felt like a fitting way for all of us to be together and say goodbye.

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