Cemetery Reflections

Since we made our visit to the cemetery on Thanksgiving morning to put flowers on my mother-in-law’s grave, I’ve been thinking about it more.

It’s always a quiet place surrounded by relatively busy suburban streets and it’s big enough that there are always other people around. Going there is conducive to reflection – feeling alone but not too alone. On this Thanksgiving Day there seemed to be more people than usual scattered at graves to contemplate/put out silk flowers…one or two people usually although there was one group of 8 or so spaced out around a grave. We go on Thanksgiving because she died the Friday after Thanksgiving 30 years ago (and we also go on her birthday in June). I wondered if others in the cemetery had similar rationale or whether Thanksgiving is the type of holiday to remember past family gatherings…to savor those times that we had years ago…and an opportunity to be outdoors in a low-risk way during the pandemic.

The physical aspects of the place have improved somewhat over the years. The curb on the street where we park was asphalt and broken in the beginning; it’s been replaced with a concrete curb. And the pines have gotten bigger in 30 years. This year either they didn’t produce cones, or the cones had dropped and been gathered up by the maintenance crew. For some reason, I noticed that some of the grave makers did not include places for urns…and one was missing the urn (i.e. there was just a hole). Most of the markers are flat to allow for easier maintenance although there is a vertical marker that makes it much easier for us to find my mother-in-law’s grave. Even after 30 years – the markers are still level…not sunk into sod. I still like the dogwood flowers on the marker we chose for her.

What will happen when we eventually move from away from Maryland? My mother-in-law will be the only family member buried here…the rest of the family living elsewhere across the country. If we are ever back in the area – we’ll probably put flowers out again but our reminders of her will be the things that were hers that we use almost every day in our home – several end tables, a jar opener, a tin for cookies, a China cabinet, a desk. Actually – we probably think about her more often because of those items than the calendar prompting us to visit the cemetery. The cemetery is not central to our memories of her. I wonder if that is true for other families and eventually our cultural norms will shift way cemeteries.