Cemeterys, Graves and Markers...

 We are all on a long journey of the soul. On this journey we encounter endless turns, shifts, and conditions that cause us to morph into ever-finer beings. At our soul-journey’s end we are inevitably changed – not at all the same as when we started on the path. 

 ~Anonymous~

 

Cemetery-A cemetery is a spatially defined area where the remains of deceased people are buried or are otherwise interred. The term “cemetery” from the Greek meaning sleeping place, implies that the land is specifically designated as a burial ground.

There are several types of cemeteries:

Monumental cemetery is the traditional style of cemetery where headstones or other monuments of marble or granite rise vertically above the ground.

Lawn cemetery is covered in grass. Each grave is marked with a commemorative plaque placed horizontally at the head of the grave at ground level.

Natural cemetery or eco-cemetery is a new style of cemetery and is an area set aside for natural burials (with or without coffins). In keeping with the intention of “returning to nature” usually there are no markers or headstones. Instead, the planting of a tree or bush or placement of a rock is used to mark the site.

Columbarium walls are common features of many cemeteries, reflecting the increased use of cremation rather than burial. Many cemeteries now provide walls, with a niche being big enough to accommodate some cremating ashes and a small plaque.

Graves-A grave is a location where a dead body (typically that of a human, although sometimes that of an animal) is buried. Graves are usually located in special areas set aside for the purpose of burial, such as graveyards or cemeteries.

Marker-A headstone, tombstone, or gravestone is a marker, usually stone, that is placed over a grave. In most cases they have the deceased's name, date of birth, and date of death inscribed on them, along with a personal message, or prayer

The stele, as it is called in an archaeological context, is one of the oldest forms of funerary art. Originally, a tombstone was the stone lid of a stone coffin, or the coffin itself, and a gravestone was the stone slab that was laid over a grave. Now all three terms are also used for markers placed at the head of the grave.

Ok, so not the most happy and cheerful of topics I have chosen to write about this time. Unfortunately it is a huge part of our lives. I have never met anyone that has lived forever. Sometime in your lifetime death will touch you. If you have been fortunate and have not experienced it yet, you are very very lucky.

Butterfly-profound changes in the soul

The first death that I remember happened in 1972 to Margaret Cozelle, Jo Beth’s best friend. Margaret was a teacher at the same school and was one of only two teachers I was allowed to call by her first name. We had a great bond. She was a round jolly woman with salt and pepper long hair she wore in a bun. Margaret had two children a daughter, Janie and a son, Ed Jr. Ed Jr killed himself when he was in high school with a gun. I never knew about that. Janie was college age and driving back from Durango one night she hit a deer and her car went over the cliff and she died instantly. I remember going to the house and seeing Margaret sad and crying but I was all of 7 and I didn’t truly understand what was going on. I had no idea that she had lost both of her children. People did not talk about things like that back in the 1970’s. Margaret survived both her children dying in the 70’s, Jo Beth dying in 1975 and her husband dying in 1983. She died in 2008 at the age of 92. I really wish I could have spoken to her to learn some wisdom on how to live as a grieving mother.

The next time death touched me was January 17, 1975, when my Daddy’s mother, my Gran-Anne died. I was 9 ½ years old. She is where I got my middle name, Anne. She was lived in Hereford Texas and Daddy went alone. He was gone for about 2 weeks. Again I don’t remember much other than Daddy combing back with the car loaded down with Gran-Anne’s belongings. The banjo clock that his parents’ had received when they got married in 1907 was now in our home along with several of her paintings. Gran-Anne was an amateur painter but she did some beautiful scenes. I really wish I had one of her paintings. (Well I have a cat that she made for me when I was 5)

Painting for my 5th birthday from Gran-Anne-1970

 Six short weeks after my Daddy’s mother died his wife Jo Beth died on February 27, 1975. I remember going to the funeral home and seeing her laying in the open casket, my Daddy and Gran-her mother, crying and talking to the staff. I remember the stupid plaid dress I was forced to wear. I don’t remember the service I just remember the really pretty pink flowers sitting by the casket and wanting to smell them. I was allowed to take one bouquet with me in the limo and I instantly picked that one and had my nose stuck in the flowers the whole time. I love and hate the smell of carnations at the same time. Their scent reminds me of what a funeral home smells like, but for some reason I like it. The only thing I could really think about was that my bondage was free. I could breathe as I did not have to worry for the first time in my life about being in trouble for something. At the time it was horrible to say I didn’t love Jo Beth, but I didn’t and I still don’t. I actually have no feeling towards her at all. She was my mother in name only.

Marie was a teacher in the room next to Jo Beth’s room and was a good friend to me. This was the second teacher I was allowed to call by their first name. She was single had a cool house and drove a VW bug. She was crazy and so much fun for me to spend time with. About 3 weeks after my Daddy remarried, Marie was murdered. She was attacked and killed in her garage trying to flee her boyfriend that had just killed his ex-wife and 3 children. The scary thing is that I had spent the night at her house the week before. I was not allowed to attend the service or ever mention her again. I stayed with her many times as my parents would go out of town or just needed to get rid of me for a night. My memories include keeping her nail polish in the fridge to keep it fresh, her cat clock with the moving eyes and tail and watching Mad Monster Party the last time I stayed with her. I tried to find some information about her but I guess 1975 in rural Farmington isn’t enough to make the internet these days.

My Gran died in January 1984 in Texas. I was newly married and I needed to fly out and take care of things. Her dear friend of 50 plus years and her sisters had taken care of all the arrangements so I did nothing to help with the planning. I felt like an outsider because everyone there was 75 or older and I know my Gran was not thrilled about me getting married so young. She wanted me to go to college. My Gran had been distant since her daughter died and my dad remarried so I wasn’t close with her but it still affected me to realize that my whole family now was my Daddy and me.

In January 1990 my Daddy became ill and was admitted to the hospital in Farmington. I knew he was very ill if he allowed himself to be taken there. He was in ICU and placed on a vent. I was 7 months pregnant with Wendy at the time. We lived in Colorado Springs and driving down was just not a good option. When he got off the vent the rest of his body began to fail and we took off immediately to try to see him before he died. I did not make it in time to say good bye, we were on Wolf Creek pass in a huge snowstorm at the moment he died. Looking back it was a blessing as I would not have been able to handle the amount of deterioration he had in 2 short weeks since Christmas. I went through the motions with my step mom and her sister but was not really helping or deciding anything. I needed to take care of myself. The day of the funeral I realized I had forgotten my dress shoes and we also woke up to nearly a foot of snow. As cold, snowy and icy as it was that day, God had provided the perfect backdrop for a “celebration”. Although it took me some time to really appreciate this. One funny moment now, is that I had viewed my Daddy once before the funeral and vowed I would not look at him again. I did not want to remember him like that. At the end of the service the director misunderstood and began to open the casket. I panicked and had to leave the room right now, but was stuck in the middle of the row. I leaped over 3 people in a dress being 7 months pregnant to escape what I was about to see. I am sure I was quite a sight to see and I am sure my Daddy enjoyed it greatly.

Three days before the end of 1^st Heather was beat up on the playground during school. Three boys had her on the ground hitting and kicking her. There was one little girl named Ashley Lowry that came to her rescue and tried to get her free from the boys. Heather did not attend school the next day as she was scared to go and I don’t blame her. One boy was forced by his Dad to come apologize bring Heather a flower and write her a note, the other two boys never had to apologize. Bill was away on a business trip so after I put the girls in bed I turned on the 10 o’clock news. I was glued to the TV when I heard the report that a 6 year old girl had been riding her bike and was hit by a car and killed…her name was Ashley Lowry. My heart sank and I had a terrible feeling that this was the same Ashley from school. Of course it was one in the same one. Heather’s last day of 1^st grade was spent writing letters and drawing pictures to give to Ashley’s mom. I asked Heather if she wanted to attend Ashley’s funeral, after I explained what it was and kind of what might happen she said yes she wanted to go. I felt it very important to help her grieve the loss of her friend. I remember seeing this beautiful little girl all laid out in her Easter dress, pale yellow with stuffed animals all around her. I thought to myself how small the casket was and being thankful at the time that was not me. Heather never forgot Ashley and I am sure they are together trying to make mischief together in heaven. I wish I could find Ashley’s mom and talk to her. I would love to see the note and drawings Heather made for her. We share a bond all these many years apart.

Ashley's marker-Mountain View Cemetery

 I have shared about Beka’s death several times and the impact her life and death had upon me and my family and still does to this day. I cannot possibly gloss over something so personal to me for the sake of space at this time. I respect her and her mom too much to do that. If you would like to read more about Beka go back to April for the past 2 years.

Beka's Marker-kind of what I am thinking about

Heather worked at Kohls with a guy named Tysen. The two of them were a couple of the youngest ones at the time working in the store and they formed a nice friendship. Heather was shocked to receive a call saying that Tysen’s brother Jason had been in an accident and it didn’t look good. She and I rushed out the door and went to the crash site. Heather had to go be with her friend for support. The accident was horrible and the truck was mangled very badly. Unfortunately Jason died on site in a freak accident that was not his fault. He was 16. Heather wanted to attend the service but didn’t want to go alone and asked me to go. The viewing was terrible, he was very badly beat up during the accident and it really was not him. First time ever I really understood that the person who died was not really there. The family had very little to no faith-and it was a very difficult service at several points with the family. The casket was left open during the service so Jason could hear everything. While there is no right or wrong way to hold a funeral or grieve this along with other things made me very uncomfortable being there. I did not attend the gravesite as it was more than I could bear. Heather did stay and attend and told me about it later. I will say I am glad I didn’t attend and leave it there. I vowed that I would not be attending a funeral again where there was no faith.

Mountain View Cemetery

I mention all these significant death’s in my world to show that death touched me at a very young age. I have always been of the opinion that children need to understand death at age appropriate levels. Death cannot be ignored or hidden it will touch all of us one day or another. My thinking has always been I didn’t want a grave that years and years from now would be an unvisited and forgotten. Because of this thinking I never wanted to place Heather’s ashes in the cemetery. In recent days I have changed my mind. I think a good deal of healing can take place for many people to have a place to go visit and “talk” to Heather. I will be meeting with Mountain View Cemetery on Tuesday to discuss plans to put Heather’s remaining ashes there with a plaque. I still have plans to place her in the 3 other private locations around the world that many of you know about. That will still be happening. I think the timing is right. I have waited a good deal of time and am not right in the middle of grief making a decision that I will regret later. Besides I have my beautiful diamond to remind me every day that she was here and she lived. I guess it is time to place her so that all history will know she was here as well.

 M'Lynn: Shelby, as you know, wouldn't want us to get mired down and wallow in this. We should handle it the best way we know how and get on with it. That's what my mind says, I just wish somebody would explain it to my heart...