a visit to his grave

I finally worked up the nerve to go.  Can you imagine what it's like to stand beside a grave and read on the marker a name you filled out in forms from pediatrician's offices to school registration to his first bank accounts?  It is heartbreaking beyond what there are words to describe.  I took him lilacs from Mama's front yard, so he'd have a piece of home with him.  I know how simple-minded that sounds.  But it was/is all I can do for him now.  I miss him.  I'm mad at him for taking himself away from me and from my children.  I wish I could just call and talk to him.  I miss the sound of his voice.