Those who know me well are aware I find peace and fascination in things that some wish to avoid.
One place of avoidance are cemeteries. I once took a short story course for horror writers where I set a scene in a cemetery. One of my lines, "It was not a good night to be in a cemetery..." was met with red ink by my instructor, who responded in the margin, "No time is a good time to be in a cemetery." I disagree (and by the way, I left that course and entered another for general fiction, and received an "A"). While I do believe venturing in beyond sundown is not the most inviting scenario, and a burial day is not the happiest time, I have found that daytime visits, especially when remembering family members and loved ones, are apropos times for peace and thought. There is a cemetery in New Jersey in which are buried my grandparents, an aunt, and a fellow co-worker. So, when I'm in the area on assignment or meeting with my writer's group, I'll make a quick stop, and one of these visits took place on a warm, early October day. During this trip, I was unable to locate my friend's burial spot, but did locate that of my grandparents. All was quite as I looked down at the granite markers, studying their dates of birth and death, all the while thinking that one day, I too will join them (hopefully not too soon) beneath earth, a visitor eyeing my marker and reflecting on my contributions to humanity. I also recalled both days of my grandparent’s burials, the contrast in weather extreme. My grandfather was buried in April on a very warm day, my grandmother following a huge snowstorm accompanied by great chill in February. On this October day, 34 and 26 years later respectively, both days were a memory, as fondly were their lives. Nearby their plots was an open structure where you can sit to think, or recite The Lord's Prayer or the Hail Mary, the words of both chiseled in the walls. I faced each respective set of words, the prayers, and sat for a moment. I was joined within by a flock of birds, a number also walking on and pecking at the ground outside. Sometimes, birds and trees swaying are all that you will find in movement during a visit, and rather than being an interruption, both are welcome, the perfect addition to the scene. As I exited the cemetery, I was joined on the road by cars, of course, tailing me, well over the speed limit, the antithesis of what I'd just experienced. But it led me to thinking that those few minutes in the cemetery, the memories, the nature, is something to be enjoyed as well as savored. Steve
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Steve Sears is a New Jersey based freelance writer
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