Grave

April 5, 2008
By
While other students were out collecting maple syrup, Amie and I went to the graveyard to take pictures. With the heavy camera around my neck, I was looking forward to going to the cemetery. After all, no other place on earth holds the same peaceful atmosphere. How many people in the graveyard are dead? All of them Haha...Well, I guess there’s something about that too. Your walking among people. Real people who used to fail the same math tests and experience the thrill of a first kiss. These people are still somewhat present even though they are not alive. We slipped past the gate, closing it behind us. A narrow pathway of trees lead to a beautiful statue of an angel. Camera’s ready, we entered.

One had a little tag and scratched on it was “I love you Uncle Richard. Love Logan.” To see the fumbled handwriting of a young boy and the grave of someone who was no longer in his life was sad.
Another grave had pennies spilled around it. Most were turning an algae color and sunken into the ground. We collected the moist pennies in our hands and placed them onto the grave.

Some of the gravestones were literally wearing around. You couldn’t read anything on it and it kind of made me sad. Like, is this persons name erased forever? It’s so old that none of the ones who experienced the pain of this death are alive so does it even matter if the gravestone can be read.

Some items had fallen over, little trinkets. I picked up a boquet of roses, barely beginning to rot away and placed them onto a grave.
And even though I don't know these people, I begin to cry.





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