The Beauty of Death

As I did my morning routine and ran through the many blogs that I follow, I came across one that truly touched my soul.  Not so much because of how it was written yet because of the treasure it gave to me.  You may wonder what treasure this could be.  The moment I began reading and gazing upon the beautiful photos I knew that in my future a trip was in the works.  No I do not know when or even exactly how yet I know that there will be a day in my life when I will venture across to Savannah Georgia and spend some special moments at Bonaventure Cemetary. 

I do not know why cemetaries effect me so.  I can remember the feeling way back in my childhood.  There was a small lonely cemetary out in field that I admired often as a child.  Each time I would pass it I would gaze at it and wonder who was it that lay under the beautiful monuments that stood so straight and majestic.  One evening while passing again I saw it in the distance.  Lit my a small light, an angel stood with her arms opened to the heavens.  At that moment I told my mother that I wished to be buried there whenever I died.  She quickly spoke and informed me I was unable to because it was a Catholic cemetary....something at that time in my life I did not understand....

As time  passes for me, still I find myself drawn to the places where people lay thier loved ones to rest.  I will be honest and say that I am not one who beleives in spending time at a graveside to visit those who have moved on.  I feel that their pressence can be felt around us regardless of where we may be.  Although I truly mean no disrespect to those who do.  My sister passed 5 years ago and on occasion I do go and sit with her.  I however am drawn more to cemetaries for the ones who are there that I do not know yet and may somehow get to know.  The lives passed and the stories to be told.

In looking at the photos of Bonaventure I am in awe at the beauty I see.  Such care taken in the statues placed.  Such detail.  The stories there must be to tell.  I have a feeling that as time passes I will  find myself walking the trails of many more gardens.  Gardens both small and large, both here and there.  Each one lending me something precious, something rare.  A glimpse into the stories told, some remembered and some long forgotten.  A beauty that can only be found in death. 

Thank you Peach Tree Blog for bringing such a lovely blessing today.  For a more detailed story of Bonaventure Cemetary click the link.

Have You Ever Wondered

Recently I was wandering about the area in search of some interesting photography moments... I had seen a few things that I wanted to photograph as well as visit the local cemetary and see if any interesting markers were present.  Sadly to my discovery the cemetary was rather new and very few older stones were present.  However I did run across a few that appeared to be home made.  The one above caught my eye when at first I spoted it from behind.  The barrel casing seemed interesting enough and the brass label on its top intrigued me even more.  When I went around to view it from the front I noticed the rough concrete and few old marbles that still remained in the indentions that circled the parimeter.  Scrawled into the concrete was the name Jackie Moon.  Weeds, which I soon learned were stickers covered the the bottom as to not show the date or additional information.  Upon clearing the weeds, it revealed the birth date of September 29th 1933. 

I sat and looked at this "monument" for sometime.  Partly because I had numerous stickers on me which needed to be plucked and also because its oddity intrigued me so.  I wondered who Jackie Moon was.  How did she die.  Why did she only have this meager homemade marker.  Yet as I looked at it I could see that although it was roughly made there was care and compassion that went into its creation.  I never did clear any further to reveal the date of passing, possibly because I knew I would accumulate more stickers, yet Jackie still remains on my mind. I am not sure if I will ever learn the full story of Jackie Moon, yet I have this feeling that I will return to her and possibly see what may come. 

There are stories all around us.  Old stories, new stories, good stories, and some not so good.  Every person whether living or passed, whether old or young, has one to tell.  Sometimes we like to stay centered on our story or a few others that surround us on a frequent basis never really venturing out to learn a new one.  This weeks assignment:  learn a new story.  In fact learn a couple.