Yesterday marked two years since Eddie died.
So I traveled from Oregon to Kentucky to "visit him" at the Lexington Cemetery, a gorgeous 170-acre national arboretum that is home to over 200 species of trees and, in the springtime an avenue of dogwood trees, magnolias and weeping cherries that lead to over 16,000 tulips and fields of other flowers.
My mother used to bring my sister and me to the cemetery to feed the fish in the pond and to watch the peacocks strut around between the gravestones.
The grounds were established in 1848 as a rural garden cemetery. A Scottish man, trained as a horticulturist and holding on to a dream of creating a park-like, landscaped cemetery was hired to lay out the property. He did a lovely job, and the grounds have been maintained to perfection.
My parents, aunts and uncles and grandparents are all buried here. (According to Jewish law, the body is to be buried as soon as possible after death and acknowledged as a sacred vessel that is to return naturally to the earth. Prohibited is cremation, embalming and artificial preservation; these things disrupt the natural return to the earth.) Eddie and I agreed years ago that we wanted to be buried in Lexington, and when an opportunity to purchase two plots in the old Jewish section popped up, we were happy to grab them. My father always called the newer Jewish section "the suburbs," and we didn't really want to be laid to rest there if we could help it. In the old section there are tombstones dating back to the mid and late 1800's. Most of them have been worn down by the elements, are discolored with age and are too hard to read now. The sense of history is powerful and, somehow, comforting.
Not far from the cemetery is Mary Todd Lincoln's home, Henry Clay's home (he's also buried here), and downtown Lexington where I spent a lot of time as a kid and teenager. Slightly further afield is my elementary school, high school, Temple, childhood home and the homes of my extended family. I didn't know until today just how right it feels to be able to visit Eddie in my hometown - even though I haven't lived here in decades - and to know that our kids and grandkids will be able to visit both of us once I join him.
I brought a blanket and a pocketful of stones. I spread the blanket out next to Eddie's headstone, filled the air with James Taylor's greatest hits and laid down for a long while. No one came by, no one bothered me. Time seemed to stand still. There was a gentle breeze. I felt full of love and peace and contentment and gratitude.
a visit to the lexington cemetery
10/3/2026
Yesterday marked two years since Eddie died.
So I traveled from Oregon to Kentucky to "visit him" at the Lexington Cemetery, a gorgeous 170-acre national arboretum that is home to over 200 species of trees and, in the springtime an avenue of dogwood trees, magnolias and weeping cherries that lead to over 16,000 tulips and fields of other flowers.
My mother used to bring my sister and me to the cemetery to feed the fish in the pond and to watch the peacocks strut around between the gravestones.
The grounds were established in 1848 as a rural garden cemetery. A Scottish man, trained as a horticulturist and holding on to a dream of creating a park-like, landscaped cemetery was hired to lay out the property. He did a lovely job, and the grounds have been maintained to perfection.
My parents, aunts and uncles and grandparents are all buried here. (According to Jewish law, the body is to be buried as soon as possible after death and acknowledged as a sacred vessel that is to return naturally to the earth. Prohibited is cremation, embalming and artificial preservation; these things disrupt the natural return to the earth.) Eddie and I agreed years ago that we wanted to be buried in Lexington, and when an opportunity to purchase two plots in the old Jewish section popped up, we were happy to grab them. My father always called the newer Jewish section "the suburbs," and we didn't really want to be laid to rest there if we could help it. In the old section there are tombstones dating back to the mid and late 1800's. Most of them have been worn down by the elements, are discolored with age and are too hard to read now. The sense of history is powerful and, somehow, comforting.
Not far from the cemetery is Mary Todd Lincoln's home, Henry Clay's home (he's also buried here), and downtown Lexington where I spent a lot of time as a kid and teenager. Slightly further afield is my elementary school, high school, Temple, childhood home and the homes of my extended family. I didn't know until today just how right it feels to be able to visit Eddie in my hometown - even though I haven't lived here in decades - and to know that our kids and grandkids will be able to visit both of us once I join him.
I brought a blanket and a pocketful of stones. I spread the blanket out next to Eddie's headstone, filled the air with James Taylor's greatest hits and laid down for a long while. No one came by, no one bothered me. Time seemed to stand still. There was a gentle breeze. I felt full of love and peace and contentment and gratitude.
