A graveyard’s cure

Our local cemetery is about a third of the way between our house and the nearest shops. It’s a beautiful place. Serene.

Full of love and grief, of stories barely told.

Today, of necessity walking to the shops, thanks to my broken wrist (I’ve been advised not to drive) I took the slight diversion it affords from the main road.

Just a few feet through a gate, one of the cemetery paths parallels the road. As you pass through the gate the traffic noise is hushed, as if by divine decree.

Actually, it’s because of a slight bank and newly planted monkey puzzle trees that lie between the graves and the outer pavement.

I usually find myself distracted by the angels, the weeping women, the carved books and inscriptions.

But today I stopped before a glossy, reddish-brown marble memorial. Obelisk-style, with a pedestal and stone border. There were three names on it.

Mary’s name was nearest the top. She died in her 59th year in 1926.

George, her husband, died in his 60th year, in 1927.

A large gap led my eyes to the base of the obelisk.

There hid little Norman, ‘interred’ elsewhere. He died, aged 13 months, in 1906.

We can fill in those blank details in whatever way we choose. Or choose not to think about the three human beings who are no more. Their loves, their lives, their sorrows. And, in the case of Norman, the unfairness of that abruptly terminated existence.

Beneath the obelisk, on the pedestal, are inscribed the words:

‘Peace, perfect peace’

Which rewrote the story I had written in my head.

Well, that’s all I want to say, today, this eve of all the hallowed, the departed souls who are – if you are a believer – now in heaven. Saints, in other words.

When garish orange is everywhere and a witch in nylon robes serves me in my local bakery, the departed souls in the graveyard were a rather effective antidote to cynicism.

Now I must return to work.

May they rest in peace.

This entry was posted in Lancashire & the golf coast, Thinking, or ranting, or both and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

13 Responses to A graveyard’s cure

  1. What a beautiful blue sky to offset the marble angels. Did you notice the blue flowers one of them held? Very peaceful looking place.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. That’s beautiful, and by any standards a quality graveyard.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. ‘Is not short paine well borne, that brings long ease,
    And layes the soul to sleepe in quiet grave?
    Sleepe after toyle, port after stormie seas,
    Ease after warre, death after life does greatly please’

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Miz B says:

    The photos are lovely, and I like what you said about stories. I’m involved with a local theatre company that contracts with the county museum of history to dramatize some the stories of people buried in our oldest cemetery. We just finished this year’s performances. The museum does the historical research, and we write and perform the scripts. On weekdays, school children are brought by bus to the cemetery to see the performances. The cemetery management is happy to host the event because it decreases vandalism to show young people something about the once-like-them humaan beings buried there. When I pass or have occasion to enter a cemetery, I,too, think about the stories.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Sorry it took me so long to reply, finally got an 88,000 document, edited down from 99,000 words with my broken right wrist, in the post on Saturday. Now having a holiday!
      I love this idea! I shall pass it on to my script writing friends. And you have sparked a thought in me for a story too…. Thanks Miz B!


  5. Ann says:

    A fortunate trip on that day to connect ideas. Minds are wonderful things!

    Liked by 1 person

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