Laying my daughter to rest among generations of family
It was a difficult day, but my ancestors comforted me
I’ve known since I was a small child that whenever I pass, I want to go to a specific cemetery. It sounds odd, I know, but five generations of family ahead of me have gone into that same plot of land. Imagining joining them as part of the sixth generation has always been a bit comforting, a family reunion of sorts.
What I didn’t anticipate was that my own child, the seventh generation, would go into that cemetery before me.
It’s been 10 months since Austen, my 9-year-old daughter, passed away from complications of Dravet syndrome. Ten months without hearing her voice, feeling her hugs and kisses. Ten months without tantrums and breaking up fights between her and her siblings. Ten months since my world turned upside down.
In the days and weeks after Austen passed away, my world seemed to be on overdrive. Things were going so fast — the memorial, moving, the start of the school year, worrying about her siblings’ mental health — that I hardly had time to think, much less process my own feelings about what was going on. But still, I knew one thing from the beginning: I wanted Austen’s ashes to be interred at the same cemetery where I would someday rest. Our family members have been going into that cemetery since 1878 — almost 150 years.
Things do not happen as quickly in real life as they do in the movies, though. It took seven months for Austen’s headstone to be ready, and another three for the ground to be dry enough to set it. Adding to the time frame was the fact that we decided to inter my two grandfathers on the same day, one on either side of Austen. My Papa Bear passed away when I was pregnant with Austen, and my Papa Jack passed away in May 2020.
As soon as we were told the stones were scheduled to be set, we made plans for a small memorial with just our family members and our preacher, all gathered at the cemetery to lay them to rest and say our final goodbyes.
Plans and surprises
The week leading up to Austen’s memorial, I was a wreck. Grief hit me like a freight train, and every little thing made me cry. I wanted everything to be perfect for my girl, and I waded through my pain to try to make that happen.
One thing I knew I wanted to do was honor the family members who were resting on all sides of my girl, from the very front of the cemetery with my Papa Jack’s parents to the very back with my grandmother’s grandparents, plus everyone in between. I purchased 30 single-stem carnations for the occasion, and I got to the cemetery an hour early to spend some time among the stones.
When we pulled up there, my jaw hit the floor. I’d spent all week trying to plan a memorial for Austen, and it looked as if she and God had been planning a surprise for me as well. The entire acreage of the cemetery was covered in buttercups — Austen’s favorite flower. They grow wild in our part of Texas, but I’d never seen them on this scale. It wasn’t just a wink from heaven; it was an embrace. OK, Austen, I feel you now. I know you’re here and you’re happy.
My children and I took the carnations I’d brought and placed each one on the headstone of a family member. I told my children how they were related and asked the ones who’d gone before Austen to please take care of her and welcome her home. It might seem like an odd gesture, but it calmed my nerves. I think it also helped my children see that Austen wouldn’t be alone. By the time we were done, the rest of the family had shown up.
We shared memories of Austen and my grandfathers, our preacher said a few words, and my grandmother and cousins sang a beautiful rendition of Austen’s favorite song. I cried through the entire thing. Honestly, I wanted to run away.
But I didn’t. I didn’t leave until the ground had been tucked in around those three people I loved so dearly. I waited until the rest of the family was gone, then stood there alone for a few moments.
I told them I loved them, that I was thankful for them, and that as long as I was alive, they’d be remembered. I told them I’d visit them often, and I’d keep visiting them until the day comes when I’m laid to rest beside them, whenever that day may come.
Note: Dravet Syndrome News is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Dravet Syndrome News or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to Dravet syndrome.
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