Christmas at the Cemetery

There's a holiday gathering place that no one rushes to get to. There are no carolers, no punch, no meals, no bells ringing, and no pretty ribbons and bows. There are trees and wreaths but the residents don't seem to notice. Only the visitors appreciate the beauty of it all.

It's quiet, peaceful and full of lost potential and tasks left undone. It's full of love and lives well lived. The visitors know not of each other but have so much in common. We've all come to remember. Remember that special someone that resides in this place. Their bodies returned to their starting places. "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust." A journey. A personal journey that all of us must eventually take. We, the families, loved ones and friends, are mere spectators. We watch them laugh, live and love. We watch them move through their journeys and we're there to say our goodbyes. We're here to carry on without them. To find ourselves and who we are without them in our journeys.

We return to their final resting places like a pilgrimage to a far away land. Trying desperately to hang onto who they were to us. Hoping to grab a piece of those feelings once more. Trying to capture those magic moments all over again.

As I sat in my car this Christmas day in the cemetery where half of my family resides, I saw them come and go. The young, the old, the wives, the husbands, the children, the siblings, and the parents. We all had one goal in mind. To remember. To honor. To re-live the journey that now only exists in our memories.

It was cloudy, breezy and a chill was in the air. But still, they came. Every holiday is the same. The paths are worn. The residents don't change but the visitors do. The population grows each day. And each one has a story to tell. The son, who was taken way too soon because of someone else's indifference to life. The husband, who due to illness, endured too much suffering in the end because he wouldn't do what he should have in the beginning stages of diabetes. The grandmother(mother, mother-in-love) who "didn't do anything to get cancer and wasn't going to do anything to get rid of it." Those are just a few of the stories of my family that are residents there.

So the next time you're in a cemetery, close your eyes and hear what the wind is saying. Walk around and look at the headstones. See the names of those whom we celebrate every holiday season. Somebody loves someone whose name is on that headstone. Don't pass it by without acknowledgement. Remember, someday your name will be on the headstone.

I miss him. John W. Freeman. February 3, 1939 - July 22, 2009.
I miss him. Derrick W. Ellis October 4, 1989 - June 21, 2005
I miss her. Ruth M. Freeman January 8, 1920 - March 30, 2002
I miss him. William B. Ellis March 13, 1937 - May 24, 2001