Today I drove through the cemetary by my house. You'd think I would have wandered through it at some point in the 3 years I've lived here, but no. My thoughts were captured by the names, the dates, the lives and lives and lives summarized in just a few words and numbers carved in stone.
The cemetary is far more extensive than I'd realized. One section held dozens of nuns, together in death as they were in life. Another, a cluster of mausoleums that reminded me of my mental image of New Orleans. Several stern angels stood guard. (Do they do the same for us living? I once heard that each person has a specific guardian angel. If so, what happens when we die? Do they continue to faithfully guard our bodies until the resurrection?)
Some monuments from the 1880s are nearly illegible, their carving scrubbed away by hundreds of winters' snow. A brief fad in the early 1900s called for a family marker shaped like a tree trunk, with individual names on smaller "logs" around it. The more recent often have two names (his & hers), but only one death date. Is it comforting to visit a grave and see your own name there, to be reminded that you'll someday be together again?
So many names. So many lives. I wonder what stories they could tell?
Posted by rachel at September 5, 2005 03:54 PM