Simple, serene, and silly

Every time I go back to the farm I visit my father's grave.  He is buried in a small cemetery next to the church that was built in 1837.

It is a beautiful church inside and out.  I love the old country feel of it.  I grew up in that church, attending services with my aunt.  It is where I went to Sunday school and colored pictures of Mary and Joseph and sang, Jesus Loves Me.

Rusty and I walked the cemetery reading the names on stones, marveling at the 1800 dates and engravings.  Many of the tombstones were the type that is used today to decorate for Halloween. Some of the sites had been visited recently, flowers adorning the area or headstones.

The colors everywhere around us were amazing.  Rusty and I stood at my father's grave and talked.  We told some stories; shared some memories.

Then we walked out together, and as I closed the gate to the cemetery my brother pointed and said, "Check to see if Dad got any mail."

Somewhere my Dad was joining us in our laughter.