When I was young, I remember that my Dad used to joke every time we passed a cemetery, “ya know, people are dyin’ to get in there” … he thought it was so funny, and we would give him a courtesy half-laugh over the predictable double entendre. I realize that cemeteries may seem like a morbid subject to some, but I find them so interesting. I’m drawn to the history and the peaceful solemnness of the permanent resting place of so many; it is sacred ground. Every grave holds a story, and I think about the people who have walked this Earth, lived a life, and are now memorialized six feet underground by a tombstone, marking the ultimate ending to their story; the inevitable great escape to the unknown. Who were they; what did they do with the time that they were given; did they have a life well-lived; how did they die; how will they be remembered? I think about these things. That “dash” between your years from birth to death represents a lifetime; “only those who loved them know what that little line is worth” (Ellis, 1996).
Gravestones are an everlasting memorial to a life lost, but they tell very little about the person… some show a long life, and tragically, some are quite short. The picture below shows actual gravestones in the cemetery where my Dad, grandparents, and other family members, rest:
One can only guess that these modest memorials are due to the immodest cost of a burial and gravestone… or, perhaps, those who buried them cared little about a name, or some dates… they chose to remember them simply. We will never know, and perhaps that is the way it was intended.
Do you believe in ghosts? As nurses we often witness the passing of a life; ask any nurse who works in an ICU or Oncology unit whether they have seen, or felt, something unusual, like a “presence” on their unit, and I would guess that many will say that they have. When I worked in pediatric oncology, one nurse told me that after a young boy passed away, his young cousin told his mom not to worry, she saw her cousin walking away, holding his father’s hand (his father had passed away a few years prior). Some may find it hard to comprehend such stories, but I find it comforting to think that we will be reunited with loved ones when we pass.
Ellis, L. (1996) The Dash Poem. Retrieved from https://thedashpoem.com