Cemeteries are a place for quiet reflection, reading a book on a blanket spread on the grass near my baby's grave, and crying, even wailing (depending on the day). Not for soccer games.
Last weekend, my husband and I went by the cemetery to leave some flowers. Cars were parked bumper to bumper around the edge of the cemetery. We had to park on the other side and walk over. Kids were playing hopscotch on the headstones, pulling flowers from the sides of graves and yanking pinwheels from the earth. Referee's whistles and shouting parents intensified my anger. Who in their right mind would approve the cemetery for soccer games? Are there really people that insensitive in the world?
I left shaking, angry as hell, and couldn't get the image of children catapulting themselves off the tops of headstones out of my head. When I went back to the cemetery on Wednesday (the day my daughter Bianca and I allotted to have a quiet, pensive picnic at my baby's grave, eating chicken nuggets and a Frosty from Wendy's), something was missing--a stuffed duck we'd brought over at Easter--and a pinwheel was broken in two lying near Miranda's grave.
I marched over to the Herriman City Building and filed a formal complaint. They took my name and phone number and seemed to simply forget. My phone did not ring.
So last night, we went to a church party where we sat at a table with a member of the Herriman City Council and his wife and Salt Lake Tribune columnist Robert Kirby. I probably wouldn't have brought it up, but my husband asked the city council member, "So, how long are they going to be having soccer games at the cemetery?" To which he promptly replied callously, "Until we start burying people over there." My head went red. I spit across the table, "That is the most insensitive and disrespectful thing I've ever heard. You have children playing on headstones and cars parked all the way across the cemetery and around the corner, and you think that's a decent use of this piece of land?" I don't remember exactly what I said, but it went on and on until everyone at the table hushed. Even Robert Kirby went scurrying away to get away from the crazy bereaved lady.
I couldn't take a drink of my lemonade, my hand was shaking uncontrollably. Nobody dared talk to each other. We all concentrated on our food and the Irish dancers tapping their shoes gleefully nearby. I lamented all night over the fact that I can't properly function in a social setting anymore. If I keep this up, we'll undoubtedly be sitting alone at future social functions.
But this isn't over yet. My next plan of action? A letter to the editor, of the local paper, then maybe a bigger paper. And I'm thinking about what comes after that. You may think there's nothing worse than a crazy bereaved lady, but you're wrong: it's a crazy bereaved lady with an agenda.
UPDATE: I got the assignment to write an editorial on this topic for the Herriman Herald. I wrote a scathing editorial and turned it in on Thursday, then found out on Saturday that this weekend was the last shift of games. The cemetery won't ever been considered for sporting events again. The city council member, from the church party, was patrolling the cars and watching the cemetery to make sure no kids were playing near the headstones. I thanked him with a huge knot in my stomach, thinking of that article with my name on it that is coming out this week. Ahhh, at least I accomplished my goal, right? And perhaps I made just a couple enemies along the way. Sometimes you pay a price to get what you want.
