I started walking at a cemetery by my house as a way to continue my desire to thwart the evil attempts of menopause and it’s hideous side effects.  That’s another blog for another time.

I was walking for the first time since Zumba classes ceased at the cemetery by my home, parking on the side of the narrow roads on the upper back side of the property. Years ago I parked there when walking with friends and it just seemed like the best place to start.

There are lots of nice hills with an even path for foot trafic and the whole area is just very relaxing and for the most part you don’t have to worry about cars driving by with the occupants viewing your sweaty body and heavy breathing.  In fact, most of the people there have moved on to another place and it’s just a peaceful space for me to be me.

I finished one lap around and was coming back up to where I started my route and noticed a new grave, mounded with dried up dirt, wilted flowers and a makeshift headstone.  As I walked off my path to the grave, I realized who had just been buried there – a 16 year old boy from the township that had recently passed from a racing accident.  I remembered reading about the unfortunate cause of his death and thought about how devastated his family must be.  His father got him started in racing and the picture on his obituary showed him in full racing garb in the middle of a jump.  I thought about his mom, losing a son in a fluke accident in the middle of a crowded race track. I stared at the picture of his face glued to a temporary marker and I immediately got chills.  The hair on my arms and on the back of my neck spiked and I could feel goose bumps on my calves.  I looked around at three glass solar objects positioned around his grave, not lit up yet since it was just turning dusk.  I particularly liked the glass bird at the foot of his grave.  I couldn’t wait to make another lap around so that I could see the bird gleam.  I stepped away from the grave and back on to my path and began walking, all the while receiving an odd kind of message.  Hearing a boy talking to me, but there were no words.  He was not audible to my ears but to my heart.  It’s difficult to explain the way that he came to me, using me for a message.  This has never happened to me before, and although I was not scared, I was uneasy.  He said, “I’m still here, I haven’t gone over to the other side yet”.  I thought to myself that it was odd that he was telling me that, but I felt blessed that he could come to me to tell me that.  He told me that he was sending signs to a woman with light colored hair, and she was having trouble believing what she was seeing and feeling. I asked him for a sign so that I new that this wasn’t just something I was conjuring up in my head.  As I cornered the turn at the top of the path  I saw a robin bird.  Earlier in the day I was telling my friend’s grandson to say, “hi buddy” when he sees robins in the yard, they’re my buddies.  It just seemed like a neat thing for him to remember me with, since my name is Robin.  I used the ‘sign’ of the robin as a sign to me that he was with me.  The robin flew from the top of one headstone to another, for about four or five stones before flying across in front of me on the path to the other side.  I knew this was my sign.  I continued to walk, continuing to think of this young boy and embedding his message in my brain.  I was eventually up on the back road toward my car and noticed his grave was lit by the solar objects.  The bird was beautiful.  I smiled and got into my car.  I thought about writing a note to the family and leaving it on the grave, but I didn’t want to inflict anymore pain onto their family.  But I couldn’t stop thinking about him.  I sat quiet most of the night just reliving my experience.

I was confident that I would keep up with my intentions and continue to walk at my own pace in my own time, whenever  I needed a break from the people who still walk on this earth.  My husband was running to grab a pizza and wanted to use my car to drive there, so I asked that he drop me at the back of the cemetery so I could begin my walk.  Just as we were driving around to that quiet spot behind most of the tombstones where the young man had been planted, I noticed that there were three cars parked on the side of the road by the grave.  I asked my husband to proceed past them and let me out  a few yards away from them, where we wouldn’t disturb them.  There was an older woman sitting in a chair at the foot of the grave, a man and woman sitting up by the area of the headstone.  A couple of little kids with a young woman walking by their cars.  I didn’t want to look at them, I didn’t want to interfere in their grief.

My husband dropped me off and I began to walk, again coming up to a corner at the top of the hill.  There was a robin on the path in front of me, hopping a few feet in front of me as I walked.  I instantly knew it was the boy sending me a sign.  I was glad that he was there with me, but also with his family.  I rounded up to the top part of the lap and down toward the family, still surrounding the grave.  I thought about stopping and telling them what he said to me, but I needed a sign.  I didn’t get one.  I kept walking.  I wanted so badly to tell them that the messages or signs that they are experiencing are legitimate signs.  I wanted someone to bump into me when I was passing, or ask a question.  All three of the women there that day had light hair. That didn’t happen.  So I continued to walk.  I never walked past them again that night, I detoured around another way to my waiting husband.

I’ve walked several time at the cemetery since that night, and I’ve seen the family there one other time.   I continue to see robins on my path each time I walk through the somber but peaceful park of souls  where I spend my an hour of my day.  I know he’s still here, wherever “here” is.

While I walk I like to listen to music, and this song came on the day that he spoke to me.  I’d never heard it before that day.  I believe it to be another sign, please enjoy:





One response to “Homeboy

  • Kenneth Finney

    Im surprised no one commented on this. Probably scares most people to even think about it. I think I would have left a note anyway. They would not know who you are and probably are at the grave more than you know, that’s just what you do. The Mom and Dad are doing battle now on who’s fault it is and you know it’s Dad. What a shame and it can’t be fixed .Now you know what I have with the dead.

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