Cemeteries as Memories of a Grateful Past

I went to see my parents’ gravesite during my recent visit back home to Iowa. They have a stone marker with a small box of ashes buried on the spot. The rest of their co-mingled ashes are scattered at our family farm about two miles away. As I do whenever I visit, I spend a few minutes chatting with my parents about the state of my life.

The early November day was beautiful. Although all the maple and oak leaves had turned colors and fallen, it was sunny with a few wispy clouds. Temperatures were in the 60s. The Coggon cemetery is on a hill overlooking farmland on three sides and some of the homes in my little town on the fourth side. I took the time to ramble a bit in the little cemetery divided by a road into two parts with Protestants on one side, and Catholics on the other.

My mother’s parents are buried next to my folks on the west side of the Protestant area close to the road. My Henderson grandparents are interred in the center of the cemetery. I paid respect to those grandparents and thanked them for living into my early adulthood so that I got to know them. I have memories of my grandpa Henderson helping dad many days on the farm. My mom’s grandparents spent their retirement in Arizona, and I loved seeing them on those trips to the desert.

Strolling in the cemetery was like going down memory lane. I saw the gravestones of many of my classmates’ parents including the bare dirt of the gravestone of my friend Nancy’s mother who just passed two months ago. I reflected on my youth and the associations I had with these adults through school activities and church. I remember playing taps at the Memorial Day ceremonies at this cemetery when I was in high school. I smiled as I thought about those days and remembered my fellow students as well as their parents.

Rambling in a cemetery on a gorgeous fall Friday afternoon was not what I had planned, but I found it contemplative. I have not thought much about what gravestone marker I would like to have someday. Burying some of my ashes in this cemetery along with my parents, relatives, and friends feels comforting. I am not sure who might ever visit me at my final resting place, but I think I would find solace and harmony in the Coggon cemetery just as I did for an hour during my recent visit. I am thankful for all those memories.

PS Happy Thanksgiving to all. I am taking a week off as I head out on another grand adventure.