There is a big cemetery bordering one end of our campus and I go past it every morning as I drive to work. At the edge of the cemetery, very close to the road, is a grave marked by a large heart-shaped tombstone. That grave has intrigued me for the past 4 or 5 years.
Ordinarily, a tombstone in that cemetery wouldn’t have gotten my attention. But this one is remarkable -- it sits on a grave site that is decorated pretty much year-round. Right now, it has a big bouquet of white chrysanthemums and pale yellow (almost white) tulips on it. A couple of months ago, the grave was adorned with a small potted Christmas tree complete with tinsel and a few shiny ornaments. Next month, there will probably be a more colorful bouquet of spring flowers perched in front of that tombstone. In summers past, there have been red, white, and blue wreaths with shiny streamers that are supposed to look like fireworks. Last year, at about this time, it had the most beautiful cluster of pale pink balloons tethered to the heart-shaped stone. They floated above the grave in the most incongruous manner. That was during a cold wet February when the cemetery was cloaked in a thick fog for days. The pink balloons looked so out of place and yet it was a really sad and beautiful sight.
I mentioned the grave to a friend while we were sitting around having coffee one afternoon. I told her that the way the grave was so lovingly cared for and adorned made me wonder who was buried there. Was it someone’s wife or daughter? Was it a child? Was it someone who loved celebrating holidays? My friend suggested I go into the cemetery and read the gravestone. She said I could get the person’s name and age from the dates inscribed on the stone and then I could google the person and the mystery would be solved. I laughed and told her that that sounded like the very definition of “morbid curiosity.” I don’t like the thought of stalking a live person but going to those lengths to find out information about a dead person is really going too far.
As time goes by, I have come to the realization that it’s not the person who is buried there that I am actually most curious about. The person I really wonder about is the one who is honoring his/her loved one’s memory with the fresh flowers and balloons and streamers. That’s the person I think about as I drive by the cemetery every day. Is this the sort of person who has trouble expressing his/her feelings with words and does it with gifts instead? If so, that’s something I can relate to. Sometimes, it’s hard to see people we care about struggling -- whether it’s financially, physically, or emotionally -- and we want to comfort them but we don’t want to risk inadvertently saying the wrong thing, so we get them a small gift instead. Obviously, in the case of someone who brings gifts to a loved one who is long gone and no longer able to enjoy them, the gifts are not the point. The point of this ritual is that the gifts help the giver remember the person who died. And, through those small gestures and the memories they evoke, the person who leaves these offerings heals and adjusts to the loss of someone they loved and miss very much. I can’t imagine the strength it must take for someone to visit a grave site on such a regular and frequent basis but I must say I admire this individual’s devotion to the loved one who is buried there.
And every time I drive by the site, it brings to mind the prayer of St. Francis: …grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood, as to understand; to be loved, as to love; for it is in giving that we receive, it is in pardoning that we are pardoned….
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