Monuments

There they were. A big headstone. A detailed footstone. 
Granite slabs. Chiseled corners. Etched words. Weighty and sad and timeless. 
Those, however, were not the real monuments to the one we came to see.
The most true testaments to my father in law, Dick Shelling, stood at his grave reverently. His daughters and his granddaughter. Three among the many who foster his legacy with his blood flowing through their veins. His life’s example of good cheer and sense of purpose guiding their actions. The flame of his life force kindled theirs and it still burns brightly during their journey.
There were tears. There were hugs of shared loss. There were heavy moments of deep silence. There were feelings of connectedness to the past – thick tendrils of thought going back in time to relive the memories when he was here breathing among us only a few months ago.
They left quietly, walking slowly away embracing each other. Monuments of love and life moving on, but never forgetting whence they came.