My Momma is an Angel

We have our youngest granddaughter, Holly, staying the day with us and needing to go to the cemetery to freshen up flowers on my Mothers grave, I take her with me. I buckle her up in her car seat and place a small spaded shovel and new flowers on the floorboard on my truck, just under her feet. Her smile is big and eyes are bright with excitement as she ask if the flowers are for her. I hesitate a moment and wonder how she will understand this outing to the graveyard and how to tell her what I'm doing. No, sweetie, these flowers are for my Mamma and your great Grandmother. I could tell she was thinking on what I said and she seemed fine with my answer.
The cemetery is only five miles down the road from our home and I could see her tiny face in my rearview mirror and then she ask me..."Are we going to see your Momma", and fighting back the tears, I answer her with a yes and that we will be there soon.
Driving up to the cemetery is always bitter sweet for me. As I park , I can see my mothers headstone from where I stopped and I can already feel her presence looking on. I take my granddaughters hand, gather up my tool and flowers and as we are walking up the open path, I am still wondering how a toddler is going to react to what I will have to tell her. We stop at my Mommas grave and her tiny hand is still in mine. I've been through this before with my first granddaughter and it was just as hard then as it is now. Holly, this is your grandmothers resting place. Her body is asleep right now but she's an angel in heaven with God. She looks up and ask if my Momma is in the clouds and I tell her yes. "Will she wake up. she ask?" Yes, Holly, one day and you will meet her one day. "Do you miss her, she ask?" Very much, I tell her.
So, with the help of my youngest granddaughter, we dug a small hole near the stone, and put new flowers. Holly put the dirt back in the hole and patted it down with her small hand and I knew right then that the answers to her questions were excepted and somehow this little child understood.
Time to go, Holly. I tell my mother goodbye and I love and miss her very much and that I was glad to introduce her to another grandchild. Walking back to the truck, her tiny hand in mine, she wanted to stop and pick a wild flower. Her big smile and those big eyes, she looks up and says with excitement, " Your Momma is an Angel". Yes, yes she is, I say. My Momma is an ANGEL.