I think I have always had a curiosity about what people do at the end of life, their own and the lives of people they know. Funeral rites, grieving, afterlife beliefs, all intrigue me.
I remember being left in the car while my grandparents went to a funeral because they thought I was too young to go and, besides, I didn’t know the man who had died. I was curious to know what happened at a funeral and was really annoyed not to be allowed to go. They were probably right, though. I’d have been asking questions the whole time and annoyed everyone there.
I think I was 4 or 5 at the time.
Because of that fascination, I tend to enjoy wandering in old cemeteries. I take pictures of the markers and look for the stories of the family, such as I can puzzle out. I am intrigued by the symbols used on the tombstones and fascinated by the elaborate decorations and money spent. The vast tracts of land that are used to grown stones from boxes of bones make me scratch my head, too. There are monuments to people who are remembered by no one living.
I tend to have an outside-looking-in view when someone I know is dealing with the death of a loved one, even when it is one of my own relatives. I don’t believe in life after death. I believe all time is Now, we just see it from somewhen that is limited because we are experiencing Eternity from the pinhole of our hereandnow perspective.
This means that I try to make the hereandnow good and hold it in my memory with love.