Reaching Out for Help

 

It's been a while since I have felt the need to write anything down. There are still nights when I cry myself to sleep because the pain of missing him is so profound, but I haven't been able to find the words to adequately express this stage of learning to live without him. He is a constant presence in my life, both in my thoughts and my heart. I am trying to go on with life and live as he would have wanted me to, but I still find it so difficult to experience anything without him, to go on as if his absence doesn't mean anything. Because it means everything. Those things that I was looking forward to in life, I now look at as bittersweet. Everything is now diminished in its enjoyment.  How is it I didn't realize how fleeting life could be until it was too late?

There are times when I manage not to think about the gaping hole in my life and find the strength to discover that there is still joy and laughter to be found in the place of someone's absence. But there is one thing that hovers over my life like a dark cloud and every time I think about it, it brings the pain and grief rushing back. His grave is still without a headstone. After three years.

Unbelievable.

Unconscionable.

Unacceptable.

It is an injustice to his memory and the love for him that still exists in this life. Unfortunately, through a series of events that my immediate family and I were not part of, the burden now rests on us and financially we are unable to purchase a stone on our own. We try to save what we can each month but it is not enough and time is ticking by. We've reached out to the other branches of his extensive family tree, but no one has done anything to help. We cannot find peace in the loss of someone we love until he is given the proper burial that he deserves.

Recently, my younger brother visited the grave and found something that magnified the pain and stress that has been our constant companion for three years. Someone, we are not sure who, took up everything that we had on his grave, INCLUDING his funeral marker, the only thing that identified who he was, and threw it in a trash bin a few feet way. NO ONE should have to visit the grave of a loved one and find it desecrated and unmarked. There are not adequate words to describe how it felt knowing there was nothing there to mark who he was and how much he is loved. It is bad enough without a stone but to have nothing there but a concrete slab? It's heartbreaking.

His grave before the desecration.

Months ago I created a YouCaring fundraiser page to try to raise funds to help us get a stone as soon as possible. We haven't had much luck with donations, other than cash donations from my very caring and generous co-workers. I am disheartened that even though we've shared the link several times on our Facebook pages, with the exception of two people, no one in our friends and family has donated to help us right a wrong that was done three years ago. Nothing can bring him back, but to be able to go to his grave and see his name written in stone, while devastating in itself, is better than seeing nothing but a funeral marker.

My siblings and I: Nick, Taylor, me and Jeff

*Update: After three years, a light has shown through the darkness; we were finally able to secure a headstone for Nick. By the Grace of God, representatives from The Huie Grimes Foundation came across my YouCaring fundraiser and reached out to donate a stone. This wonderful organization provides headstones for those who cannot afford to obtain one themselves. I had never heard of the foundation until they contacted me earlier this year. My family and I are eternally grateful to the foundation and the wonderful gift they were able to give us. Now, finally, you can rest in peace, Nick.

http://thehuiegrimesfoundation.org/