I have an addiction to Pinterest. There, I've said it. Honestly, anyone who knows me, knows this. When I say I'm tired and going to bed, it possibly means I'm tired, and yes, I'll be in bed, but I'll also be looking up a thousand and one images for my fantasy wedding that's nowhere near soon. Or looking up recipes for 'healthy meals' that--no offense, healthy eaters--I just don't have time for. Trust me, the next day, I'll still be mowing down on a breakfast of coffee and cookies with cheese puffs as my mid-morning snack. So sue me; I haven't keeled over from them yet.
But anyway, back to Pinterest. If you're not on, you should be. (Yes, that means you AC). It's a great place--so many nifty things! Plus, you can learn a lot about a person from their Pinterest boards. Alas, that's not actually the reason I'm writing this post. Actually, my post has to do
with something a lot of people tend to avoid.
Cemeteries.
Proper topic, considering we're finally into October and it's coming up to Halloween and all that jazz. Now, most people, like the boyfriend for example, don't have a fondness for graveyards.
Something about being creepy or something like that. Not this girl--I love them. Granted, there are still a few of them you won't catch me in at night, or give me the heebie jeebies as I drive
past them, but as a rule, I find them fascinating. Seeing the names and the dates--it creates so many questions for me. Who was she? How did she die? The young ones especially--they
break my heart.
Just this Sunday my cousin's wife and I took a drive to Buckman, MN to visit the graves of my grandmother's parents, and a few of her sisters. Steph and myself, along with her three children, made the rounds. It's been on my list to do since I moved to MN--to visit the graves--and now I can mark it off the list. I can also make the circuits for memorial day, like I did back home with
Mom and Amz.
I guess I've always been fascinated by cemeteries--one of my favorite poems growing up was Robert Frost's "In a Disused Graveyard". If you haven't read it, please do. More so lately, there's a beautiful song by Sara Bareilles that uses fantastic graveyard imagery. It's called
"Chasing the Sun" and it's phenomenal. My favorite part of the song, in particular, goes,
It's a really old city stuck between the dead and the living
so I thought to myself sitting on a graveyard shelf
and the gift of my heartbeat sounds like a symphony
played by a cemetery in the center of Queens
I love it. I just envision this silent,overcast afternoon, and the only sound in the singer's ears is her own heartbeat, sounding like drums, surrounded by the dead. How utterly alone would you
feel? But yet, how...not. Though they may be dead, there may be no physical representation around, you're not alone. And in New York City, a place filled with so much history, good and bad, equally tragic and wonderful, to be surrounded by all those people, dead or alive--it's hard to comprehend. It's mind-boggling to a point, and I love it.
See, my theory is, the dead never truly leave us. Granted, we may feel alone, but they're always there. More so what I take away from the song (and you will too if you listen to it) is that you have to embrace life. Like the phrase, "the gift of my heartbeat". Life--it's a gift! And what's the best way to thank a person for a gift? By using it! By living everyday to the fullest, by making mistakes and taking chances and screwing up--because you probably will--but learning
from it!
Two days ago marked the one year anniversary of my Godfather's death. Uncle Charlie was younger than Daddy when he died, and it's been hell on his kids. His wife passed away the year
previous, and as you can imagine, it's been difficult. I get that--I can't possibly imagine losing both my parents within such short space of a time. The thing that gets me is how they don't take
the time to move on from it. I'm not saying the pain will go away, and I'm not saying it's going to be any easier, but look at it this way--they lasted as long as they did. They lived, they loved, God saw it was their time, and now we're left to carry on. And sure, those left here can get stuck in the past, refuse to change things (regardless of whether they need changing or not) because 'that's the way it's always been done'.
No!
For the love of yourself, make a change. Put the dishes in a different spot, get rid of those old coffee cups that nobody uses anymore. I get keeping mementos, but making a shrine won't bring somebody back. The best way, in my eyes, to honor their memory, is to live your life to the fullest, to take each day as a new adventure, to use each skill and lesson your loved ones' taught you to make this world a better place for the future.
...whoops, I spiraled a lil' bit, didn't I? Not that I've been building that up for awhile.
I digress. I'm not saying you should get rid of everything. I carry an old black and white photograph of my grandpa in my wallet. Steph and Karl were kind enough to give me Grandma's crafting supplies, because they knew I'd appreciate and use them. I have a cute little red-stone cat brooch Aunt Evelyn gave me before she passed away. Little mementos--I
understand. They help us to know: the dead are always with you. Though it may feel as though they're gone, they're always looking out for us. At least, that's what I like to think.
Can you guys see why I love cemeteries so much now? Well, I suppose it's the dead in general. Hope this doesn't make you too worried for the ghosties to come out this Halloween!
Remember, as Daddy always told me, "The dead can't hurt you."
~LB
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