I spent some time in two cemeteries last week - two graveyards, each with different residents and different meanings to me. Both with ancient headstones, yet one living and the other dead. One I visited with youth at my side, the other with wisdom holding my hand.
The first was a cemetery that has been all but forgotten - maintained by the living, but deprived of new dead - she is filled with ancient memories that none remember. Voices of the old South whisper through barely readable epitaphs as mild winds blow through her trees. Yet life sits at her feet in the form of my niece. Special words and moments now crown her ancient stones, bringing life where death sleeps. Her unknown guardians smile and are comforted through giving comfort...we know them not, yet they know us and bring eternal gifts.
Multitudes of strangers travel fast by the second cemetery - unknowing, uncaring. But her gate offers wonders as she still gives shelter to the living and the dead. I have been in this place before with grief as my companion. She is a history book - one can discover new faces of the ancients there, as long as you have a guide. My guide, wandering with purpose, uncovers the stories and makes the names and dates come alive. As my guide's mind explores the memories for me, I realize that she has been my life's guide too - ever teaching, ever nudging me along to find true life.
I have learned that graveyards are special places - for the living.
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