A Message from the Grave (or is it facebook?)

It's been 13 years since my mom died, and I finally feel like going to her grave site on its own merit, without the inevitable push of another loved one's funeral. She would have been 89 on the 12th of December, so I enlisted my cousin because she brings the flowers and the polish and the weed trimmer so everything is just so while we stand and have a memory or two of our moms, dads, grandparents. It's quite the revelation that I want to go on this maiden voyage, though we are definitely frequent fliers at the Mt. Sinai Cemetery. There have been times where I've gone to a couple of funerals in a week. We could spend a day there with our entire family. Lots of memories.
But what triggered this blog is the funny thing that happened on facebook shortly after I set the date with my cousin. One of our family member's last name is Shulman. I wasn't planning on visiting their grave sites, hadn't even thought of it, though Aunty is buried there, next to her beloved husband who died suddenly many years before her. He was my dad's favorite uncle and I remember the day we got the phone call because I walked into the dining room and my dad was crying. It seemed years and years in my young life between that uncle's death and my dad's death. But it was only 3 years. Of course, I only realized it when I saw the headstone's engraving as an adult, a mother, a total grown-up. I was kind of shocked how relativity plays its cunning games on the mind of the young. It was almost like reliving the incident of learning as a 20 year old that my sick rat did not go off to a rat ranch, but to permanent sleep. (See earlier blog on the pets I've had)
But I digress. So, I set the date to go to Mt. Sinai with my cousin, and then get on my fancy social networking page of facebook and see with joy that one of my friends commented on my blog entry. Yeah.
She wanted to know how to get a blog going. So I put in the link, and those floaty looking words come up to make sure I'm not a spammer or something. But this time the words have meaning. They float in front of my eyes and say Shulman Grave.
I guess it's time to give Aunty Bertha and Uncle Abe a visit.