
After the crash site we went to the grave. There was a cross on his head stone and a little Christmas stocking. The flowers and flag were still there from Memorial Day. The amazing thing was that there was deep, lush green grass on and around his grave and the graves around his. It was so soft and it left imprints from sitting on it. I think someone must have planted it. I think it is very appropriate for our dear Marshall because he always did like grass ... he was the Moose Mower. Because it was so cold, we sat in the van to read scripture. Anyone could read or say anything they had on their heart and mind. I was quiet. I sulked in the back corner of the van. I didn't want to speak and I didn't want anyone to speak to me. I don't know why I get like that sometimes when we go to the gravesite; I just start feeling mad. It's starting to become a pattern.




Madison had to (urr, got to) climb the fence to drill the pole onto the cross. While we were discussing how we were going to do it since the lanfill is closed on Thanksgiving Day, Mom looked up and there was Madison right on the other side. "Hey, how did you get there?"







