Requiescat in Pace





I love cemeteries.  Usually.  They are such interesting and peaceful places.  The headstones tell us stories of history... about people who lived and were loved, who died after a lengthy life well lived or far, far too soon.  I can spend hours in our local cemetery, reading the tombstones and praying for the dead and their mourners.  Usually I pull into the entrance with a detached somberness.  Today I burst into tears.

I pulled myself together and took some photos of old tombstones and statues.  I didn't cry the rest of my time there.  But when I went to edit the photos just now... more tears.  They come without warning several times a day.  I didn't even know Anthony that well.  I so wish I had.  From what I hear, he was a truly remarkable boy.

It's not that I cry because I'm thinking specifically about Anthony's parents at that moment.  It's as if my grief on their behalf has seeped into my soul and is always present.  Dear God in Heaven, if I feel this much pain, what must Anthony's extended family and friends be feeling??

I had Caroline, Harold and Walter with me and we drove around just taking it all in.  Our town's cemetery is actually two cemeteries in one... the Catholic side and the non-Catholic side.  To be honest, the non-Catholic side is prettier because it is older and has more trees.  Mayberry was not settled by Catholics but by British folks (who I realize can be Catholic, but in this case weren't), so the main cemetery was originally designed for them.  The early Mayberry Catholics were buried in two other now-closed cemeteries on the outskirts of town.

What I most love about our cemetery (both the Catholic and non-Catholic sides) is that you are permitted to have any sort of headstone.  I can not stand cemeteries that require small, flat markers.  Sure, it might make it easier on the groundskeeper but if ever there's a place that is worthy of a weedwacker, it's a cemetery.  Check out this awesome grave marker (click on any photo to see it full-size):

Isn't that cool?  Whenever my children and I visit a cemetery I point out things that I like or don't like about grave sites.  They're going to know just what to do when I die.  Plant crocuses on top because they bloom and go before the groundskeeper begins mowing for the season.  No stuffed animals because they get mushy after just one rain.  Yes to a statue of an angel or the Blessed Virgin Mary.  No photo of me because they fade to a strange yellow.  I love the idea of incorporating a bench like this, so that my descendents can sit and pray for my soul:

I was charmed by the inexplicable beer bottle at the foot of the tombstone.  I'm also intrigued by the Viva Las Vegas inscription.  May God have mercy on the soul on this Vietnam veteran.  I'm grateful for his service.

To end this post on a happier note, here is a photo that I wasn't even going to take but Harold kept saying, "Take a picture of this!  Take a picture of this!".  So here is a picture of one of the many pinecones he collected: