Musings on death... and graveyards

Sunday was the anniversary of my Grandma's death. (I think it was the 5th anniversary.) Not the type of anniversary I would typically celebrate- but the whole extended family was going up to the cemetery to honor her memory. (Thanks to my aunt for helping me remember how to spell 'cemetery'!)

I love graveyards! They have always held a certain fascination for me- the hundreds and hundreds of lives, stories, loves, heartaches, bravery, hidden longings, talents- all gone from the earth. I have often gone to walk around and see which is the oldest headstone, or find who had the strangest name. Of course, there's a certain spook factor as well that accompanies any good cemetery. I even wrote a story once about a kid who plays a deadly game in a cemetery. (It was called "The Fate of One So Innocent"- it was destined to be a best seller, but it was way ahead of its time. I was 12, I think.)

I've always wanted to live next to a cemetery, too. How cool would that be- your neigbors would be totally quiet! I guess I've always had a certain fascination with death in general. I was dragged to more funerals as a kid than I can even count. My brother and I would dare eachother to touch the body- I was the only one who ever actually did it. (Hey! I think my brother ows me a dollar, come to think of it!) I used to have a little play organ and I would play funeral music on it- just for fun. Ya, I know... kind of creepy!

However, looking at my 95 year old grandpa at the cemetery the other day, watching him alone, without his sweet wife who's headstone was 4 feet away, and who painted a beautiful rainbow above us to let us know she was watching- well, it was almost too much for me. I want him to go. Is that bad? I want him to be able to die and be with my grandma again. I want him to be able to see, to read, to whistle... (ok, well, half-whistle... he never could actually whistle), to chase grandkids, to fix things, to quiz me on what I learned, to be my grandpa again. I will miss him dearly, I already do. Most of him has already gone, I think. He so longs to be free from his failing body, but when his body is gone- then he'll really be gone! I'll be going back to that same spot of ground in the cemetery and seeing two death dates on that stone. I'll be grandparentless.

I know they live on. I know I will see them again. I hope when grandpa goes he will find some sweet spirit up there to send down to me. Then I can say, yes, you knew your great grandpa- he picked you out! (I think my grandma is having too hard a time deciding which one to send! Either that, or she started telling them a story and hasn't finished yet!)

I hope I will make them proud while I muddle through figuring things out down here.So much of who I am I owe to my grandparents. The funny thing is, though, I probably won't visit their graves much at all. I know they aren't there. I know they have better things to do than hang around old graveyards waiting for people they knew to come visit. Most people don't love cemeteries as much as I do. Heck, when I die I won't hang around my gravesite either. I'll be checking out all the other tombstones and comparing!