To know that so many lives were lived ~ with all the accompanying hard times, anguish, and pain ~ and are now resting quietly under the ground, all of their cares and worries over and forgotten, is somehow comforting to those of us who are still part of this world and perhaps suffering the same agonies as they once did.
I think it must be nice, for a change, to have wildflowers growing instead of tears flowing...don't you?
And I do reflect on each and every name I read, their dates of birth and death, and wonder about their lives...were they good people? Were some ever so in love that it bruised their hearts? Did they have children who mourned their loss, mothers, fathers, family...? And were they, too, all gone now, their stories forever buried with them, never to be told? So many lives lived, so many stories untold.
I used to visit Woodlawn Cemetery in the Bronx a lot, and aside from the famous (and infamous) who are buried there, I once came upon a very old grave; when I read the inscription, I cried...deep heaving sobs. For it was the burial place of a young girl, perhaps four or five years old, and her parents had words inscribed on her headstone that would tear up even the coldest of hearts. And then I thought, "But they're all dead now, gone, and so is that awful pain they felt over losing their child." It was comforting to think that, and allowed my tears to subside.
Because, in the final analysis, that is where we all wind up, be it graveyards or urns or scattered to the winds of time. And even if one is famous enough in this life to leave something behind that will be remembered, does it really matter once we're gone? Or will the passage of time gradually wear away even the most celebrated of names?
I find it very amusing, in a macabre kind of way, to see those enormous mausoleums that are erected in cemeteries, names prominently etched on the front, as though proclaiming to every chance passerby, "Look, I made it! I became rich enough and famous enough to be able to afford a small mansion when I'm gone so I will NEVER be forgotten!"
But you're still dead, aren't you? So mausoleum or tiny ground marker, what's the difference in years to come? Not much, I'd say.
Except for the stories...so very many stories, all dreadfully important to each and every one at some time, only to become distant memories for some, or completely unknown to others.
As for me, I envy those people long gone. I envy the quiet and the peace and the wildflowers growing over their sleeping bodies. And, most days, I long to finally join them.
But Robert Frost was right about "miles to go before I sleep" and so I must wait my turn, and can only hope that it won't be long before I, too, am blessed with eternal peace...
