Call me crazy, but I love to walk through graveyards and look at the headstones. My folks would do this while we were growing up. They would elaborate on what life may have been like during some of the centuries present in the graveyard. Whenever they were out driving around, if they came upon a cemetery, they would wander through. Some headstones are monumental, others are forgotten by most.
There is a graveyard I like to stop and walk through from time to time. It is not far from our place, and the long, curvy road makes for a beautiful afternoon drive as it winds back into the hills. It’s as if the road was carved right through the heart of a gorgeous valley surrounded by hills, with a running creek along the side. The road disappears back into the woods, where an old cabin stands. It was built probably in the late 1700s when the valley was settled.
The cabin still stands just like it was built long ago. I love to pull over and watch it like it will do something if I stare at it long enough.
The graveyard is not too far away, which is typical for that time. Usually, each community consisted of a church and cemetery, a school (often housed in the church) – they didn’t get the memo about separation of church and state (wink), and perhaps a hardware store and gristmill. Larger towns would be nearby, but small communities only needed what was necessary.
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Walking through the graveyard, I can spot evidence of old fence lines and church foundations. If you look closely, old trees around a cemetery will have knots on their trunks. This is often where an old fence was once staked on the tree. Fencing used to be common around trees. Further, if you know what to look for, you can often find footings or perhaps remnants left of the old church that would have been close to a community graveyard.
I once found a man who fought in WWII. He died just a few months before the war ended- so close to seeing victory, yet he never came home. The company where my husband is employed has a motto amongst themselves- our job is to keep our troops coming home.
I have spotted some graves as far back as the 1700s. Those are typically rare to find. Spotting many graves with close dates suggests a possible epidemic that wiped out many, including young children. Usually, records are kept in the local courthouse of these communities, and you can research what epidemic it was.
Showing these gravestones to my children teaches them about people they will never know. But it brings to life history and events that they have read about but seem so far away.
One epitaph read, “Here lies our beloved slave – faithful servant and friend.” I do not hide these history statements from my children; my husband and I teach them. That is the only way to keep from repeating the past. My children can see it for what it was – in black and white.
Quite often, when we would travel South, as a little girl, my family would walk us through the graveyard where many of my relatives were buried. My father and grandparents would explain who everyone was and tell us a little about their lives.
My mother’s mom died when she was six years old. Yet, I can’t remember many trips to Greenwood, Mississippi, without stopping to lay flowers on her grave. My mother would pay her respects to her mama. Now, she stops to do the same for her daddy, my Grandaddy, who went home to be with Jesus two years ago.
Life is not lived in a graveyard. It is only a place where we can learn from the past and gather hope for the future, but it is never a place to remain.
I have a dear friend who suffered a horrific loss a few years ago. I asked her once if she ever visited the grave. She responded, “Yes, but not often. I will take flowers and stay just a minute; I have a wonderful life and refuse to get trapped in death. Besides, that’s not where my loved one is anyway.”
Epitaphs are written all over graveyards that can teach us about the dash between the dates. The dash seems so cold compared to the life that was lived. Take a stroll sometime and learn from the headstones.
I don’t spend much time thinking about what my epitaph will say; I have too much life to live. So long as those who know me know I lived with a mission and a purpose, the dash will be sufficient.
“The thief comes to steal, kill, and destroy, but I have come that you may have life and it more abundantly!” John 10:10
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