Today I visited Mark's grave at Tahoma National Cemetery for the first time. GPS helped me drive along the rural, tree lined roads. If it had been another errand, with Mark there beside me, it would have been a wonderful drive. It was a tearful, difficult moment but not as awful as I thought it might be. Maybe the beautiful setting, the gorgeous fall colors and profusion of flags eased my heart a little. I drove into the cemetery grounds and all the way up to the flag pole and came back around. As I drove back to the columbaria, where he is, the Mountain was brilliantly visible. What a beautiful setting. There were a lot of people putting flowers on their loved ones' graves in anticipation of Veterans' Day. And I was one of them with my bright yellow chrysanthemums. I'm glad that his niche (and one day, mine) is low to the ground. I was able to touch it and talk to him. An older woman put her arm over my shoulder, "Dear," I lost my husband 10 years ago." She was a volunteer and had helped me find his niche when I got confused. I had been looking right at it. It's like I just didn't believe that I could have a personal stake in that place. This lady teared up too and said, "You never get over it, but it does get easier, it really does." I'm going to believe her.