Finding Peace in a Small Town Cemetery
There are not many advantages to being a childless widow whose parents and sibling have all died, but one is that if you decide to extend your stay in Santa Fe, New Mexico, by another month, you can! And so that is what I have done. My summer in Santa Fe has been rich. I have reconnected with many long-time friends, made new friends, attended some watercolor classes, and simply taken in the wondrous beauty and culture of northern New Mexico.
As I mentioned last month, Bob and I visited Santa Fe at Christmas in 2013. On our last day, we decided to drive north, which turned into a plan to visit my brother’s grave in a tiny town just south of Taos called Talpa. I am a little embarrassed to admit that because I had not seen David’s grave in many years at that point, I had trouble finding it.
As we drove the various dirt roads of Talpa, Bob looked around and, with a pained, perhaps somewhat disgusted look, kept saying, “Why did your parents bury him here?” Talpa is not the prettiest little town northern New Mexico has to offer. I was getting increasingly anxious and self-deprecating because the sun was setting, and I could not find the cemetery where my one and only brother was buried. “I mean, why here?” Bob repeated with that same judgmental look on his face. I shrugged, trying not to cry from the combination of disappointment that my husband was not simply trusting in the place my parents had chosen to bury their 13-year-old son and the fact that I could not locate said place!
In that instance, I saw a Mountain Bluebird and just knew it was an uncle of mine, who had died not three months prior, and he was assuring me that we would find it. Sure enough, we pulled into the cemetery within about three minutes of the bird/uncle sighting. Bob got out of the car, looked around, and with a big smile, said, “Oh, I get it now. I understand why they buried him here,” referring to the beauty of the spot. (As the journal entry on page 14 of The Hospice Doctor’s Widow: A Journal notes, Bob shared the specifics of his wishes for the disposition of his remains.)
On July 31, I drove up to that cemetery in Talpa and added four flat markers to Dave’s grave: for my mother, my father, Bob, and me. David’s headstone was created by American sculptor Jesus Bautista Moroles (1950-2015). A couple of weeks before I placed the markers, I was at the New Mexico Museum of Art, walked out into the courtyard, and saw a stunning fountain created by Moroles. On the left is a photo I took of the fountain at the museum, and on the right is the gravesite at Talpa after all my work cleaning it up and placing the markers.
