Platial | Who and What's Nearby
Platial | Who and What's Nearby
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My mother specifically told me a few years back that when she died, she wanted a bench as her gravestone. At the time she told me, I didn’t care to take into consideration that we were treating a very heavy subject so lightly. It was right after my grandfather passed away and the headstone brochures were randomly dispersed throughout the house. I remember looking through them and finding the one that I wanted. A part of me even got excited about the idea. That’s weird. But my mom had seemingly made the decision a while back because she didn’t even have to start thumbing through the pamphlets before she told me, “I want a bench so you girls can come sit and talk to me.” I’m not sure that the conversation has come up since then.
I hadn’t thought about my mom’s wishes until today so I figured, since I was here, I could reflect on her and see what some of our options are for benches. I walked right past the Garden of Memories and the Garden of Eternal Life. To me, the entire area felt vast with its rolling hills, picture perfect green, cut grass, and several paved paths for its visitors’ traveling convenience. I was walking through a park, really—a very quiet park where instead of shade coming from large trees that follow each pathway, the only shade seen on the ground comes in blocks behind the gray and white gravestones that tower from the lawn. And instead of the dozens of large trees, there are tiny berry trees that randomly accent the field of graves. For the place that I was standing in, it was actually quite beautiful and definitely peaceful.
Past the gardens and “Welcome to Graceland Cemetery” sign, I met “Shelly”. It was the first bench that I came across on my way up the hill, but instead of sitting on top of it, I made myself comfortable on the grass next to it. Despite its purpose, it didn’t feel right taking advantage of a seat that’s been reserved for family and friends. Who was I to disturb her? COME, SIT AND REMEMBER ONLY THE GOOD TIMES. Before I even knew her name, I read her epitaph first. I wondered if anyone had come to think about bad times. When I looked on the other side of her bench, there she was engraved boldly, “SHELLY”…quotation marks and all. There were no more markings anywhere on the bench. Just her rules and her “name”. I took a moment to observe her neighborhood.
I met the Kirkpatrick family, Mr. and Mrs. Addison, Gene Swanson who was patiently awaiting for his wife Joan to join him, and only a tiny part of the Sheaks family. BABY ROBIN GAY was waiting to meet her parents. By the bright pink flower arrangement that filled Baby Robin’s vase, Father Charles and Mother Cleta I it was clear to see had recently visited their newborn. All of these graves oversaw Highway 30 with the sun setting behind them. I thought for a minute and wondered if they had ever imagined that the chaotic sounds of semis and the fast paced life would taunt them even through eternity. There was something different about “Shelly”, though. While everyone around her faced the nonstop world past the “Thank you for coming” exit sign of the cemetery, she faced laid in the opposite direction. “Shelly” faced the sunset.
My mother specifically told me a few years back that when she died, she wanted a bench as her gravestone. At the time she told me, I didn’t care to take into consideration that we were treating a very heavy subject so lightly. It was right after my grandfather passed away and the headstone brochures were randomly dispersed throughout the house. I remember looking through them and finding the one that I wanted. A part of me even got excited about the idea. That’s weird. But my mom had seemingly made the decision a while back because she didn’t even have to start thumbing through the pamphlets before she told me, “I want a bench so you girls can come sit and talk to me.” I’m not sure that the conversation has come up since then.
I hadn’t thought about my mom’s wishes until today so I figured, since I was here, I could reflect on her and see what some of our options are for benches. I walked right past the Garden of Memories and the Garden of Eternal Life. To me, the entire area felt vast with its rolling hills, picture perfect green, cut grass, and several paved paths for its visitors’ traveling convenience. I was walking through a park, really—a very quiet park where instead of shade coming from large trees that follow each pathway, the only shade seen on the ground comes in blocks behind the gray and white gravestones that tower from the lawn. And instead of the dozens of large trees, there are tiny berry trees that randomly accent the field of graves. For the place that I was standing in, it was actually quite beautiful and definitely peaceful.
Past the gardens and “Welcome to Graceland Cemetery” sign, I met “Shelly”. It was the first bench that I came across on my way up the hill, but instead of sitting on top of it, I made myself comfortable on the grass next to it. Despite its purpose, it didn’t feel right taking advantage of a seat that’s been reserved for family and friends. Who was I to disturb her? COME, SIT AND REMEMBER ONLY THE GOOD TIMES. Before I even knew her name, I read her epitaph first. I wondered if anyone had come to think about bad times. When I looked on the other side of her bench, there she was engraved boldly, “SHELLY”…quotation marks and all. There were no more markings anywhere on the bench. Just her rules and her “name”. I took a moment to observe her neighborhood.
I met the Kirkpatrick family, Mr. and Mrs. Addison, Gene Swanson who was patiently awaiting for his wife Joan to join him, and only a tiny part of the Sheaks family. BABY ROBIN GAY was waiting to meet her parents. By the bright pink flower arrangement that filled Baby Robin’s vase, Father Charles and Mother Cleta I it was clear to see had recently visited their newborn. All of these graves oversaw Highway 30 with the sun setting behind them. I thought for a minute and wondered if they had ever imagined that the chaotic sounds of semis and the fast paced life would taunt them even through eternity. There was something different about “Shelly”, though. While everyone around her faced the nonstop world past the “Thank you for coming” exit sign of the cemetery, she faced laid in the opposite direction. “Shelly” faced the sunset.
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