Do you occasionally go Goth and take a walk in the cemetery?

It has long been a source of comfort to me when I’m in a depressed mood.

Whether it’s the tranquillity, the otherworldliness or the bees buzzing in the freshly laid flowers, I couldn’t say.  The grass, not quite a lawn, is comfortable to walk on.

I can think melancholy thoughts because I am walking able-bodied through the cemetery, reasonably intact for my age, wearing casual clothes and a sunhat, clutching my water bottle and car keys.

In front of me, the carved headstones, sinking marble slabs and rusty iron railings hold a certain olde worlde charm but tell of sadness and loss and neglect.

It has been several months since my last visit and I notice new gravestones.  It is a hard heart that is not moved by the chisel-etched lettering.  The rows of columbarium niches.  Or newly turned earth.

My gloominess shifts, alternating between being surrounded by absolute endings and ongoing beginnings.  Generations moving forward, carrying the same blood in their veins––until it too drains away.

I chide myself for forgetting to bring flowers when I see a child’s name on a temporary cross.  My memories race to another place, my heart-broken mother lying across the back seat of the car, weeping tears which splash onto the vinyl seating.  Inconsolable grief beyond my young understanding but I knew my brother had gone.

We know death hovers over us for many different reasons.  We ignore, we forestall, but when the time comes we construct memorials to the deceased and monuments to the power of death.

Like my favourite mausoleum.

It had rained in the night, the scent of pungent eucalyptus leaves all around, and I can see the sides of the stone mausoleum are still damp.

Small patches of brown and green mould creep around the edges of a large, tightly sealed wooden door with solid metal hinges and no handle.  Not even a lock.  A firm statement of eternity for those entombed within.  Unless it’s a cenotaph.  Either way, I don’t think anyone will answer my knock.

I see this edifice as an art form of some complexity.  Not knowing anything about it, no name or plaque to give an inkling of tenure, I feel neither fear nor intimidation, and am certainly not in awe of its size and prominence on the hillside.

The roof is domed.  An off-white marble angel stands in prayer on the top, miraculously intact given the damage to smaller, equally virtuous angel statues set around the outer walls.  Lower down, straggly weeds mingle with intricately carved flowers which appear to sprout from the earthworks.

A mosaic frieze, rendered in ceramic tile and glass fragments, encircles all four walls.  Some parts twinkle and glisten, most are dull.  I can never work out if it depicts a religious theme or the life of a prosperous family.  Ah, entwined I think.

The worn stone step beneath the sturdy door looks unsafe and ready to crumble at the slightest shoe pressure.  Clearly not the original bluestone foundation slab.  The breeze picks up and two withered plants on either side of the gravel pathway shiver and shake like baby rattles.

I glance skyward as the afternoon sun is covered by streaks of sombre cloud.  It doesn’t take much imagination to realise this resting place would look forbidding by night.  I am unsettled.  Those dark hours would be a step too far.

After completing my circuit, I gather myself, my mind, my accoutrements and I am ready to acknowledge the towering obelisk stationed at the gate.  Did it sway?  I politely thank its ebony magnificence and amble out to the carpark.

So, why is this cemetery connected to me?  Will I end up here?  Can I conceive of the idea of me ending up here?

I cannot conceive of me ending up here, the thought is unmanageable, bizarre even.

Which is why I like a quiet walk in the cemetery.  I breathe the fresh air and rejoice in the fact that today I can.

♥ Gretchen Bernet-Ward

---

Down to the Cemetery
2009 © Kid Sam

Come back from the mirror it distracts your thoughts
Take off your dark glasses leave them on the floor
Turn off the television and put down the phone and
Burn the magazines you read when you’re alone

Let’s go down to the cemetery
Let’s go down to the cemetery
Let’s go down to the cemetery
Let’s go down

In the dead out of the city there’s a place I know that
Everyone ignores and people never go
All streets lead there so we’ll find our way
And when we get there you do not have to be afraid

They’re diggin’ our graves but while they work
Let’s laugh at them cause all of it is so absurd
Let’s go dancin’ there above the dead
Oh let’s celebrate that we’re not yet

Let’s go down to the cemetery
Let’s go down to the cemetery
Let’s go down to the cemetery
Let’s go…

Hold my breath feel that it is warm
But it is temporary baby it will soon be gone
Take a handful of dust and throw it in the air what
You once were you will be again

So when we’re gone let’s two graves together
By the tree that rises tall and brave
And those who are still livin’ out their birth we’ll go
Dancin’ over our small patch of earth

Let’s go down to the cemetery
Let’s go down to the cemetery
Let’s go down to the cemetery
Let’s go down.

https://www.letssingit.com/kid-sam-lyrics-down-to-the-cemetery-k1f7vtz

 

Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them.
May the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace.
Amen.