After several weeks of cold,
dark and rainy weather
the sun finally made an appearance.
It was a beautiful day
but I was kept inside
completing a tax audit.
No fun but it needed to be done.
I finished my work,
gathered all of the necessary documents together,
put them in an envelope,
addressed and sealed it
and headed out to enjoy.
There was not much daylight left
so I decided to increase my sphere of exposure
by riding my bike rather than walking.
My intent was to hit the bike trail
and head south.
The trail runs over 40 miles
so there are lots of places
to enter and exit.
The one I chose on this day
is just beyond a small graveyard.
The last of the daylight
glinted off of the headstones as I rode past.
I stopped on the pathway
outside of the fence
and looked at all that was inside.
I thought about the subject matter,
about personal space,
and about respect
and decided that I could photograph
within the graveyard
without being disrespectful.
So I rode along the fenceline
back to the tall iron gates
that opened into the grave sites,
dismounted,
and walked my bicycle
through the archway
and into the setting sun.
The first things that I noticed were the obelisks.
Some were new.
Their edges sharp
and their carvings clear
and well defined.
Others were old.
Time and weather
had smoothed some
and broken others.
Many had become host
to green moss and lichen.
Then there were the urns.
Some were open.
Some were closed.
Others looked more
like vases
without flowers.
I found that the older parts of the park
were more picturesque
than the newer areas.
While the newer stones
spoke to me of fragility
and loss,
the older ones
imparted a sense of
stability
and permance.
Of the hundreds of stones,
there were two that moved me.
The first was a new,
unmarked stone.
It lay there
reflecting the sky
and waiting patiently
for a name.
As I was walking my bicycle
toward the exit
I noticed a bit of red
on a small stone.
The stone was set under a large tree
and was shadowed by
much larger stones that surrounded it.
The first date
carved on the stone
was from 99 years ago.
The second
was only two years later.
I rode home
as night fell
and I wondered who,
after 97 years,
might be leaving gifts
on this small grave.
It made me feel good
to know that there
are still places of
permanence
and respect
in this world.
Your cemetery visit reminds me of a loss I just sustained. Paul and Alice were young married people at the same time my wife and I were. We both had children who played together. Recently, I wrote Paul wishing him a happy 72nd birthday. When he replied, he told me that this birthday was the first in 48 years he had spent without Alice, who died on December 20, 2009. I am at an age when I must be ready to handle losses like that.
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