Tombstone Tuesday - My Grandparents

I sometimes jump into things blindly believing that either my guardian angel or my instincts will show me the way.  I was hoping for divine guidance this past Sunday when I took a drive to visit my maternal and paternal grandparent’s graves.  Although I had not been to the cemetery in years, I was confident I could find them without knowing the plot number.  As I was walking aimlessly, admiring some elaborate stones, I noticed a couple watching me as they were attending to a grave, or maybe it was just my highly developed imagination or paranoia shifting into overdrive.

I watched them through the corner of my eye, trying not too look like I was watching them watch me as they got back into their truck and slowly drove around the curved cemetery road.  The pick-up truck they were driving stopped directly in front of me and a tall middle-aged woman got out and walked toward me.  I knew it!  My angel arrived!  Being a member of the church in which the cemetery was located, as well as a frequent visitor, she very knowledgeable about the layout of the cemetery.  She proceeded to give me some tips on where to look and then the cemetery angel was on her way, leaving me to continue my search.  

 

Where I should have gone first!

It was not long before I came across my maternal grandparents. I never met my grandmother, who died before I was born and I barely knew my grandfather since he died when I was a child.

My mother's parents.

After awhile I preceded onto my paternal grandparents graves, in a section of the cemetery known as the ball field.

As I was cleaning the mold from my grandparent’s grave, I could hear the sounds of a baseball game in progress in the adjoining park, which brought back memories of  warm summer days listening to the Red Sox on my grandfather’s radio. 

What a perfect place for my grandfather to be, I imagine he is certainly in his glory listening to his beloved baseball. 

My father's parents before...

and after cleaning.