Impressions

Point One:

I was in the cemetery last Friday on a true fall day.

A little on the cool side, gray - no sun - a slight breeze, leaves falling. This is the perfect weather for a cemetery visit.

I have been there on brilliantly sunny days - there is something incongruous about that.

I have been there on rainy days - you cannot see anything with the raindrops running down the windshield. Perspective is compromised.

On a fall day, dead leaves are falling on the graves. No need for me to hammer home the significance of that. 

The breeze rustles the leaves remaining in the trees, and moves the lighter branches around. There is a sound not unlike an unearthly whisper (as I imagine it to be).

As far as visitors go, gray skies are in harmony with the twisted emotions of those surviving the death of a loved one. 

A true fall day perfectly complements the atmosphere that a cemetery exudes.

Point Two:

When I was there on Friday I witnessed yet another broken person tending to the grave of a loved one. From afar - I never get close, out of respect.

It hit me hard on two levels - the nature of relationships, and the finality of death.

This guy tended to the gravesite so tenderly, and with focus. Cleaning out debris around the headstone, cleaning the headstone itself, planting new flowers.

You spend a lifetime building a relationship and you share everything. Little things, big things, triumphs, failures, every emotion connected with every meaningful moment of your life together.

Everything you share is another element permanently woven into this life you are making. Everything you experience changes you in some way and adds to the depth of your love. These things strengthen your bond and make you more one than two.

And then this person is gone. Forever. The person dies, the love does not. There is no longer any tangible, satisfying way to express your love. No kiss on the cheek, no hugs, no simple conversation, no sharing a meal, a movie or just tv. No presence.

Just absence. An aching absence that numbs, and is deafening in its silence.

Your mind cannot grasp the fact that the person you love is just gone. The finality of it. It is rendered beyond the scope of understanding by virtue of the very fact that you love this person.

So you tend to the grave. Lovingly. Or hold pictures in your hand. A piece of clothing. Watch family videos. Make a connection in any way that you can that is meaningful to you.

But it will never be enough.