This is not a bivouac of the dead. It is a colony of heaven. And some part of us all is buried here.
My co-blogger Darwin Catholic has a fascinating post on cemeteries at his blog:
“I like to find people born a century before me and see what year they died,” she told me.
“Well, thirty-four more years. That’s not a bad run…”
Go here to read the rest. Until my son Larry died I never had much to do with cemeteries. Now, I visit his grave at Mount Olivet cemetery in Dwight at least once a week. At first my visits were so beset by grief that I did not notice much beyond Larry’s grave. However, as the months have passed, I have developed a deep love for the peace of the cemetery as it passes through the changes of the seasons. I have become familiar with the tombstones near my son’s and I often wonder about the events of their lives and the fates that led their bodies to await Judgment Day with the body of my son. My bride and I have spaces adjacent to the grave of my son, and when our times come our flesh will join the little band that patiently awaits at Mount Olivet the Day of the Lord. Today was a glorious Fall day at the cemetery, with orange leaves swirling gaily in the clear late Fall sunlight, like souls basking in the grace and joy of the Beatific Vision. Yes, much to my surprise, a cemetery can be a source of joy, as I speak to my departed, yet ever near, son and see the peace and glory of mortality awaiting immortality. Our parish priest is blessing the cemetery next Sunday, and my bride and I will be there, for the cemetery has become a blessing to us.
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Near us we have a small cemetery called Red Bank, not much more than 100 plots … yet I enjoy the visit and fact that we can find 4 known revolutionary war soldiers buried there. Quite a ratio given that small area. They of course did not die in the war.
Just east of the LIRR, Jamaica RR station on the south side of the tracks is an old, abandoned (the proximite Church – not Cathiolic – has been reinvented to some other use) cemetery. There are full sized trees among the head stones.
Each evening as I ride past I say, “May the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace, amen.” Lest we forget.
I need to start to go with my sister to visit our parents’ grave in the national cemetery. She always has a nice thing to say about the visits. Daily, I visit with them in my prayers.
My brother recently wandered into the tiny, overgrown, untended graveyard across the road from our place in upstate NY, and discovered headstones with birthdates in the 1700s; at least one gent laid to rest there was already pretty old at the time of the Revolutionary War. Pray for the souls of the forgotten dead and your friends in Heaven will multiply, social networking between life and afterlife, I love being a Catholic!!