Late summer, Fall and even the dead of winter. Every time I went to visit and grieve for my husband, a rose was there. It truly began to make me feel upset and uncomfortable. My husband's grave was all I had of him. That and our precious memories. Why would someone intrude on that?
Time passed. Life went on. Days came and went. The grief was always there waiting to bubble up at a song, a smell or a memory.
3 Months later, I had posted a blog about my sadness and grief.
It was less than 4 days later I got this note in the mail:
I stumbled across your website a couple of years ago.
Your videos and blog actually made me throw up in my mouth!
Nobody cares what you wore to the funeral. You are a Martyr widow. Nobody cares that you wore black gloves. But, really, my dear, long black gloves in 90 degree weather? A big fine from The Fashion Police. You are not a movie star or royalty so come down off your high horse. Your story about the "five dots" just makes you delusional. You and your DEAD husband had seperate lives. At least HENRY did, if you get what I mean.
Personally, you are Trailer Trash and the perfect example of how money can't buy you class.
Henry deserved better.I was shocked, hurt and stunned.
What kind of woman writes a note like that just to hurt? I have always been an advocate and strong supporter of women.
Writing a note to criticize what I wore to put my husband in the ground for eternity? Why would she even care?
Was my husband cheating on me?
I didn't ever feel that he was. We were happy together and in love.
I never had that "gut" feeling. We were together almost constantly.
Even if he was cheating on me, what she was doing was nothing more than mean and so cruel!
I had no proof. I had no peace.
I began to suspect everyone! Stranger's that smiled at me in the grocery store. People I didn't know that added me on FaceBook.
Even friends. I felt as though I was in a bubble and just the slightest thing could burst it and I would disappear completely.
I had to know. My close friends volunteered to go stake out the cemetery. All I wanted was a name. A face.
The roses continued.
I placed our wedding picture in a beautiful frame and had it waterproofed and placed it lovingly at his tombstone.
Our Wedding….A happier time and place.
The picture disappeared.
Still the roses came.
I went to winter at my Florida home in the sunshine. Henry never far from my heart and mind.
I returned. More fresh roses lying on my husbands grave in the sweet smell of newly cut grass and Indiana sunshine.
In late June this year, I decided to hell with my humiliation. What did it matter anyway? Isn't catching and exposing this person more important than feeling embarrassed and humiliated? I was hurt enough. Nothing he/she could ever do could hurt as much as losing my sweet Henry so I began asking friends what they would do? I also posted a YouTube video explaining it all.
After a lengthy discussion my good friend Kevin told me to place a deer camera on a tree in the cemetery to catch whoever it was.
I never knew they had such a thing…..
He helped me choose one and place it in the proper place near my husband's grave.