Running through cemeteries

Fri May 11, 2007

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Cemetery girl

Sometimes I run through cemeteries.

Cemeteries freak some people out. Our real estate agent told us that many clients refuse to consider a house anywhere near a cemetery. I haven't visited the cemetery in which my brother, sister-in-law and mother are buried in many years. Cemeteries are a comfort that way for some, but not for me. It's impossible for me connect a plot of ground with my brother, for instance. Jim's not there; he's in my head and my heart, and in the memories of everyone who knew him.

I've always enjoyed walking through cemeteries in general, however, and these days I've started running through them.

There's no car traffic, so I don't have to worry about where they are so I don't accidentally run into them (or rather having them accidentally run into me).

There aren't many people. I've never been a social runner. I'm the slowest runner in the world, and prefer running at my own pace. Plus I also prefer running in silence; it gives me room to reflect and think about whatever I'd like.

There are no intersections, which means that I don't have to stop unless I want to.

It's quiet. I listened to the birds as I ran earlier this morning, and the wind in the trees. It was a glorious morning for a run, sunny but with only a hint of the heat that will likely come later today, and the sky a brilliant, endless blue above.

Cemeteries are a great place to find interesting names for my books.

Cemeteries are full of stories. As I run past the tombstones, I'm always aware that every stone has at least one story behind it. The couple who were obviously devoted to each other, for example. The grief behind the few words adorning an infant's stone. The family stone. The stone of a husband or wife, with space for the other. The gravestones that are obviously visited frequently, adorned with flowers and carefully tended plants. The lonely-looking gravestones whose engravings are starting to deteriorate.

Cemeteries are inspiring visually, with their sculptures and different textures, groomed gardens and trees.

Cemeteries remind me of my own mortality, of time passing. I'm reminded of loved ones long gone, and of friends who have also lost loved ones. Someone in my writer's critique group lost his mother two days ago; I thought of him and others with recent losses.

But most of all, running through cemeteries reminds me to value all that I have that much more, and to not take people or time for granted.

Vine cross

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Copyright © 2007 Debbie Ridpath Ohi. Base URL: http://www.blatherings.com
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