A few plots down from our headstone rests a small plaque that reads, “If love could have saved you, you would have lived forever.” Every time I read it, I’m jealous I didn’t buy it first because it perfectly describes how I feel about my angel daughters. Then I wonder how tacky I would look if I copied my eternal neighbor’s decorum and purchased the same one.
Growing up the only perceptions of a cemetery I had originated from the séance scenes in Now and Then and superstitions about holding your breath. It wasn’t until my husband and I were put in the unique position of selecting our burial plots in our thirties, that I ever spent much time in one. After our daughter London died, we decided to purchase our burial plots so that she could be laid to rest along with us. It took me YEARS to finalize approval for the headstone, during which time I would aimlessly wander around our cemetery reading other headstones, looking at graphic designs, and getting ideas.
When it comes to real estate all you hear is, location, location, location, and the same goes for the property of your final resting place. What’s your proximity to the nearest tree, statue or building? Who are your neighbors? Which families take care of their “yards” and whose are neglected?
As to be expected in a cemetery most of the “residents” are elderly couples you will find with engravings such as, “devoted wife” or “loving father.” However, my heart would periodically break when I noticed an unusually short time span listed and immediately wonder what happened. Of course, the writer in me wants to know everyone’s backstory.
What surprises me is how much I have grown to enjoy my time at the cemetery. To me my daughters are saints and touching that piece of granite is like touching the holiest of relics. I like to think I will receive special graces for visiting and that my prayers will be heard more intently.
I find it interesting to observe the visitors. Some people come and go quickly as they drop off a memento or a bouquet. Others bring chairs and camp out for a while as if they are bringing the party to the deceased. Of course, there are the busy times, Mother’s Day and Father’s Day always see the most activity. I wonder how often people go, who gets the most visitors, and which headstones have been all but abandoned.
Sometimes I think about staying a while, packing a picnic or reading a book, but then I worry what people will think. Is that weird? Taboo? I know people who are terrified of cemeteries. I also know children who think going to the cemetery is the most natural thing in the world. So, I guess the cemetery is an “anything goes” type place and if it’s any consolation dead people most likely don’t judge.
I used to fret about how to walk through the aisles. Was there a social etiquette to follow? The last thing I wanted was to disrespect the departed, but now I think as long as you come in love that’s not possible.
In turn I have come to realize that the cemetery is not a scary place to be feared, but a divine atmosphere to be appreciated. With the sanctity of our loved ones, perhaps it’s the closest thing we have to heaven on earth.
So, if there is a certain someone you have been contemplating paying your respects to, go for it. Pull up a chair, take your coat off, stay a while, I guarantee you will be happy you did.
