If you've ever stopped by the blog before, I'm sure you've seen at least one of my cemetery photo stories. I've always loved going in cemeteries (during the day, in full sunshine, no ghosts trailing behind me) and I believe I have Dad to blame for that. He always took us to cemeteries to have a look around, sometimes taking pictures, but mostly just to admire the tombstones.
After my Grandmother died, I had this irrational fear of her body being put in some wooden box and thrown in a hole in the ground. The idea of her "bones in a box" (those words repeated in my head for days) would immediately bring me to tears and fill my heart with sorrow. It was just no way to treat such a wonderful woman who I admired so much. I told everyone in my family over and over again to have me cremated when I died. I guess looking back on it, I was being a little dramatic (but, just a tad...she was my grandmother after all).
Saturday was the first day I had been back in a cemetery since my Grandmother's funeral. It didn't bother me one bit though. The air was cold and the breeze was actually a little refreshing. Mike and I have passed the Cedar Grove Cemetery in Williamsburg so many times, and each time I say how badly I wanted to photograph it. Lucky for me, Saturday's morning sun was delightful and the ground had pretty much dried out from Friday's downpour.
I was surprised to see so many recent tombstones. Being Colonial Williamsburg, I thought all the all of the stones would have been from the 1800s, not the case. I finally located the older section and was interested to see dates from the early 1700s. And "Cole" on another - my grandmother's maiden name - reminding me of her, in the white casket embossed with pink carnations. I realized, I didn't feel like crying or my heart swelling. I actually felt a little comfort.
Now hear me out. This isn't some twisted, morbid confession. But, I started to think how if it weren't for all the "bones in a box" we wouldn't have such places to commemorate our loved ones, we wouldn't have a permanent reminder of our history, nor a place to simply take a walk on a brisk day (parks are for sissies ;). Not many people like to stroll around cemeteries and that's pretty normal. However, for people like me, who find the last name 'Peachy' amusing, or are intrigued by seeing a Freemason symbol under a man's name or find a similar family name, it's okay to find serenity in cemeteries. And for the first time, I discovered I'm okay with my Grandma's Bones in a Box - most importantly, her soul has returned home. So if her bones can provide someone one minute of joy or intrigue or just plain thought, then I can't ask for more than that.
