Today I decided to go on a pre-dinner stroll… I had passed over these rail road tracks and curiosity got the better of me today and I followed them on for a bit. Winding through the woods and past a few picturesque red barns, the description of the scenery, were it not reality would seem cliché to the point of originating out of a shiny paperback in the grocery store. However, reality is that there is something lovely in the quiet of early evening. A peace sort of settles on the land and fields around me as if all at once mother the New England country side took off its work boots and threw her feet up on the couch for a little rest after a hard day’s work.
Down the tracks I came upon an old cemetery, at which point I decided to detour and meandered over this hallow and hollowed ground. Being a slightly marshy area, I would be lying if a few times my imagination did not get the better of me when my foot sunk slightly into the soil around the gravestones. It may be strange to choose to wander through a cemetery where I know none of the names and no connection to the people there, but why create these pillars to our lives if not to be seen by the living? The gravestones were so diverse in style and material; some were so aged that they had snapped and been bolted back together. I’ve never before seen a cemetery this old. It was not unusual to see a pillar with a last name and then smaller engraved headstones that said “mother” “father” and then ones for the children’s names as well. Amongst these pillar-like graves were the old fashioned headstones that you may be familiar with in Halloween iconography, but have long ago been replaced with smoother rectangle and more wind resistant substitutes. On these tall thin crested headstone where the words were weathered away, and the dates well into the 1800s.
One statue was engraved with the names of three children all passed on before their parents and buried in close plots to what would eventually be their parent’s burial site. I think the graves that struck me the most where the ones that were pre-planned family graves. Especially where there was one name, birth date and date of death on one side, and then husband or wife’s name, date or birth and a spot left blank for the date of death. I couldn't help but think about what it would be like to know that my name was carved in stone somewhere, and I imagine the chisel patiently waiting to fill in the missing dates. It is reality, of course, but a strange feeling nonetheless. How would I live my life differently? How would you?
I was also struck when I began noting that frequently the time lapse between married couples passing was so slight, sometimes just months. There were a few beautiful engravings; a mostly reference to religious materials, but my favorite was a woman’s grave who said something along the lines of “loving mother and grandmother. A world traveler and friend, until we meet again! Ciao!” I like this one because it seemed to capture a celebration of life, and not merely a marker of death.
Down the tracks I came upon an old cemetery, at which point I decided to detour and meandered over this hallow and hollowed ground. Being a slightly marshy area, I would be lying if a few times my imagination did not get the better of me when my foot sunk slightly into the soil around the gravestones. It may be strange to choose to wander through a cemetery where I know none of the names and no connection to the people there, but why create these pillars to our lives if not to be seen by the living? The gravestones were so diverse in style and material; some were so aged that they had snapped and been bolted back together. I’ve never before seen a cemetery this old. It was not unusual to see a pillar with a last name and then smaller engraved headstones that said “mother” “father” and then ones for the children’s names as well. Amongst these pillar-like graves were the old fashioned headstones that you may be familiar with in Halloween iconography, but have long ago been replaced with smoother rectangle and more wind resistant substitutes. On these tall thin crested headstone where the words were weathered away, and the dates well into the 1800s.
One statue was engraved with the names of three children all passed on before their parents and buried in close plots to what would eventually be their parent’s burial site. I think the graves that struck me the most where the ones that were pre-planned family graves. Especially where there was one name, birth date and date of death on one side, and then husband or wife’s name, date or birth and a spot left blank for the date of death. I couldn't help but think about what it would be like to know that my name was carved in stone somewhere, and I imagine the chisel patiently waiting to fill in the missing dates. It is reality, of course, but a strange feeling nonetheless. How would I live my life differently? How would you?
I was also struck when I began noting that frequently the time lapse between married couples passing was so slight, sometimes just months. There were a few beautiful engravings; a mostly reference to religious materials, but my favorite was a woman’s grave who said something along the lines of “loving mother and grandmother. A world traveler and friend, until we meet again! Ciao!” I like this one because it seemed to capture a celebration of life, and not merely a marker of death.
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