Most of us visit a graveyard at times of extreme emotional distress. Funerals. Aniversaries, birthdays, and so forth. They do have a reputation as being gloomy, unhappy places. But they shouldn’t.
The majority of the people here are missed. Their well-kept graves reminders to their memories. Visiting a graveyard when not grieving gives a different persepective. Graveyards can divide families that nurse grievances real or imagined. They can also heal old wounds. Grievances seem unimportant, here.
Graveyards are undoubtedly monuments to grief. But they are also celebrations of life. Achievement. Love.
I found myself out and about Somewhere In Niagara and gravitated to this local graveyard on the outskirts of Port Colborne. The day was dank and dismal. Snow covered the tree boughs and added some highlights to the multicoloured graves and their bursts of colourful flowers. I found the hard geometric outlines of the headstones made pleasing contrasts with the chaotic disorderly branches of the trees they share the scene with.
There are worse places to be, I thought, than a well kept garden surrounded by people that are loved.
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