You are in a cemetery. Everywhere you can see stones, none of whose names you recognize. The sky is beautiful. It is calm, but it looks like it’s going to rain. It’s one of those days where there isn’t much humidity or wind, but the sun shines behind the clouds. You walk around, feeling both overwhelmed and joyful. Cemeteries are bittersweet, and maybe you fancy that. In the distance, you see a family gathered around a stone. You keep your distance and walk further, looking around at the stones, the path and the sky above. The overwhelming sensation of unity makes you crack a smile. You don’t know if you should be smiling in a cemetery, but this feeling of peace makes you happy.
You pass from section to section. Nuns, war heroes, family stones, married couples, children. All around you, memories float. You know none of these people, but you feel as though your presence makes them more alive. Memories that you will never know of, stories which you can never hear, but at least, you figure, you can imagine it all.
A memory is strong. It can lift a spirit, make the day better. It can remind us of sorrow, make us more conscious. These people are recycled matter, but they are also the memories of others who you have never met. Perhaps, you have seen them on the street, but you will never truly know whether they remember this one person whose stone looks like a faded cement block.
Ordinary stones are the best, along with the faded ones, you think. To you, those have the most memories and the most mysterious past. They make you feel as though death is not something to trivialize, rather it is something to question. Sometimes, you feel as though graveyards are only there as a reminder to remember the dead, as if one needed constant physical proof of death. Cemeteries are very materialist in that way, you figure. Although, you remember, they are also heavily affiliated with religious groups.
You keep walking until you reach a more secluded area, where trees surround you, and the sky is only visible if you look past the branches. You think you feel a few droplets now, but no matter, you settle at a tree to read. Around you, bird are chirping happily and kids laugh as they pass by with their father. You smile at him, and wave at the children. They giggle and hide behind his legs.
You must leave soon, you eventually realize. Sighing, you get up to walk to the nearest exit. You walk through a field of stones full of religiously affiliated people and near there, you find an exit. You are reluctant to leave, but when you do, you keep glancing back, smiling as if to remember that feeling of unity and peace. You think of the children and their father. Whistling in content, you slowly walk home.