3 November 2002
Amizadai from Girl Unravelling sets the scene:
On Friday, I visited a graveyard. It wasn't to visit anybody. I just came across it after a meeting with a potential client. I was crossing the over-head bridge on my way to the bus-stop, wondering what to do in the two hours left before my next appointment when I saw some graves on the other side of a fence. The graves looked really old, and some of them had been dug up and their headstones broken. It piqued my curiosity, and seeing how I had time to kill, I decided to try to get in and take a look [at] them.
It's a long story, but the story of a cemetery is inevitably incomplete without the stories of its inhabitants, and Amizadai's narrative, which touches lightly on what little she can know of those stories, is to me very moving, perhaps because it is simple and unpretentious and has no agenda to push. There's a peacefulness to it all, a gentle rebuke to those of us who scream in fear at the thought of our own demise, even as we pretend to accept it.
Posted at 6:46 PM to Life and/or Death
Thanks for that wonderful review!
It's been ages since I wrote anything descriptive, and I'm trying to start again. I'm glad you liked my first entry in ages.
Yes, it was a very nice piece. I'm from New Orleans, known as the "City of the Dead" for its very old, above-ground cemetaries. There was one walking distance from my house. Most of the tombs were glowing, white monuments to the extended families house inside. Except this one. It was the only red brick tomb in the whole place. It was old, from the 1800s, and largely covered with green vines. Buried inside was not an extended family, but merely one man and one woman -- husband and wife. In contrast to the stark white of the others, this little red brick tomb accented in green seemed so happy, housing the remains of two people incredibly in love. Other than my father's tomb on the outskirts of the French Quarter, this is the one tomb that stands out in my memory of living in New Orleans.
If I lived in a place that was five feet below sea level, I'd want to be buried above ground too. :)
Cemeteries play hell with my brain. They're scary, and yet they're peaceful. I suppose when I finally get into the serious Kubler-Ross stages, I'll understand the contradiction.