A visit to the cemetery

On my way to rehearsal last night, I decided to stop at the library.  Well, as it happened, the library had just closed, so I was too late.  While I was waiting to turn out of the library parking lot, it started to occur to me that R was buried in the cemetery across the street.  On a whim I pulled in to visit him.  I couldn't remember whether there was a gravestone, but I had some idea of where he was buried, because he's toward the back by the trees.  

I got out of my car and went to look at the gravestones.  No luck.  I noticed a little metal grave marker, and when I looked closely I saw his name on it.  Then I realized that someone who knew and loved him had placed a little metal smiling bee next to it to mark the space as belonging to R.  I started to cry, because I was very touched.  Back in February I wrote about how R used to come up to me and yell "BEE" at me and want me to yell "BEE" right back to him in his ear.  When he was younger, bees would sit gently on this man's finger- this man who, for a large portion of his life, yelled and slapped and kicked at people (often because he was likely in a lot of pain).  

Now he has a little smiling bee watching over him.  I think the other thing that made me cry was knowing that it meant someone else, probably from the institution, has been visiting him and is missing him. I don't know about anyone else, but I think it's comforting to know that, even when we mess up some things in this life, even if we yell and lash out at people because we're in pain of some sort (emotional, physical, spiritual) or we're scared- there's usually someone (or several someones) who still love us and will miss us when we die.