Graveyards have always fascinated me. Most of them will take you centuries back into history. My grandfather supervised the cemetery near his farm for many years, so it was a place I visited many times as a child. We even had picnics there. Positioned at the bottom of a hill, overlooked by towering trees, it was serene and fragrant with the smell of country grasses. Many of my ancestors were buried there, including a great great Uncle Ren White, who’d served in the Civil War. I still make the annual Memorial Day pilgrimage to put flowers on my family gravestones, but find it sad that so many graves appear to be forgotten. Who will visit your grave? Or will you even have one?
Most people who pass away in this century will not have a traditional burial. It’s estimated that by the year 2040, 80% of us will choose cremation. Most will not have a gravestone to visit, although some will chose to have their ashes buried in a cemetery next to their spouse or family members who preceded them in death.
But even if you do have a gravestone, it’s no guarantee anyone will come to visit it on Memorial Day. Many people are actually afraid of cemeteries, and will avoid them at all costs. That’s because cemeteries remind them of their own mortality.
And yet, for me, as the only remaining member of my immediate family, a flood of memories stream into my consciousness at the gravesites: My oldest sister braiding my hair and reading Grimm’s fairy tales to me. Middle sister, blonde and giggly, yet kind enough to let me into her bed on the nights when I was scared. Her twin brother’s ashes are up in Michigan, but I remember him buying me shoes with his paper route money. My mother’s wonderful cooking, and Daddy taking us to the fireworks and the beach all summer long.
I feel the tears coming on, and try to distract myself. They no longer allow flower planting at the cemetery, but they let my Grandpa’s 100 year old peonies continue to bloom every year. To this day, I’m a sucker for peonies.
