First storm of the year and what a storm! After I cleared my and my neighbor’s drive today, and shoveled out the local fireplug, it was off to the cemetery to dig out and visit my recently deceased wife’s grave. That section of the cemetery isn’t plowed, but with four-wheel-drive, no problem. I knew as I pulled up and looked that something was amiss. There should have been a snowy lump in front of her stone where I placed an evergreen basket a short time ago. A little digging confirmed you had stolen it. (You might see this, so I’ve chosen to address you directly.)
My first reaction was anger — followed very quickly by deep sadness. Not for me, or my wife, but for you. Perhaps you needed a Thanksgiving gift, but lacked the money. A better gift would have been to tell your Mom, wife, or girlfriend (it seems likely you’re male), “I wanted to get you something, but I didn’t have the money. I was going to steal a beautiful, wood-slab sided basket with a branch for a handle, filled with evergreens, pine cones and a red ribbon, from the cemetery. But then I thought of you, and what you would think of me, and I couldn’t do it. I hope you forgive me.”
But instead, you stole the basket from the grave of a woman you never met. Perhaps you didn’t notice the date on the stone. It’s nearly the first anniversary of her passing, so it’s still very raw for me, her family and friends. Or perhaps you did, and didn’t care.
Since you have her basket, you should know a few things about her. She was 70 years old when she died, and more beautiful than the day we met nearly 40 years ago. She was, in younger days, a three-time Women’s National Judo Champion. So, congratulations. You stole a souvenir from a nationally ranked athlete.
Midlife, she scrapped a successful career and became a well-respected criminal appellate attorney for Massachusetts’s prisoners serving life without parole, primarily murderers, people that, in many cases, started out like you, committing petty crimes. Things often escalate from there, and due to joint-venture laws, many got caught up in something they never would have dreamed of. She was revered by her clients for her kindness, and never judging them. She helped more than a few with prison education programs. So, congratulations. You stole a memorial basket from a woman who would have worked tirelessly to preserve your rights.
There’s so much else to know. She was a talented portrait painter, and exhibited and sold many works. She played the piano. She was eternally optimistic, even during the course of the undiagnosable disease that took her life. She only knew two kinds of people, friends and friends she hadn’t gotten to know yet. Had she known you, it’s a pretty sure bet she would have liked you, despite your shortcomings.
Perhaps you thought this was a victimless crime. After all, she’d never know, right? But there are several victims here, and you’re the first. Because you’re not a petty thief or larcenist anymore. No, you have a new name. Grave robber. Now it’s your secret shame, your secret stain, to bear throughout your life. You may believe there’s no price to pay for that, and who am I to say differently? But, regardless of your beliefs, or mine, this world seems all about balance, and you’ve tipped the scales. I have no idea what form it may take, and certainly offer no prediction, but I think what you have thrown out of balance will be restored one day. Good luck with that. The grave has been dug out, so you could put the basket back, which would help. You could pause there for a moment, just another mourner, and tell her you’re sorry, and that you’re going to make a real effort to turn things around in your life, to avoid becoming a client of someone just like her.
Being an optimist, she would believe you just might do that. Yin to her Yang, I tend to doubt it. But no matter. I know your name now, and that’s enough.
Gary Greene is a resident of Greenfield.