I’m eating my lunch in a graveyard.
Human seeds have been planted in neat little rows. Stone stakes label the crop.
~ N.D. Wilson in Notes From The Tilt-A-Whirl
I like cemeteries.
The names, the epitaphs, the iconography, the quiet.
I like the sadness, the melancholy, the stab of pain, the bracing reality of death.
I hate death.
I hate the ripping and tearing, the long separation, the disruption, the destruction.
Death is my enemy.
I whisper John Donne’s words, “Death, thou shalt die.”
Weekly, we quote the Apostle’s Creed:
I believe in the resurrection of the body, and life everlasting.
Grief for Little Charlie. Grief for Little Charlie’s mom.
So personal: My Mother. Our Son.
A hollow emptiness.
Spring time is perhaps the best time to visit a cemetery.
Spring’s blossoms sing an ancient melody ~
after death comes the resurrection.
Our favorite epitaph.
Your life in five words?