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I like hand-made monuments most of all, I think. They represent for me a very pure kind of love. A reluctance of a loved one to leave the grave of their beloved unmarked, simply because they could not afford a fancy stone. I've seen stones that look like they were made from Quickcrete poured into a mold, with the names, dates and epitaphs scrawled in with a stick while it hardened. For some of these poor departed, that stone may be the only tangible record left of their life; one that may have been as full and rich as any life that was ever lived, for all we know.
I especially like discovering old stones that are almost unreadable, that have faded with neglect and take time and effort to be deciphered. It's like finding a lost treasure, reading those words which perhaps no one has taken the trouble to read in decades. Thats what happened with this stone, which I stumbled across in an old cemetery not far from where I live.
While on a walk last summer, I passed this old churchyard cemetery, which is not all that remarkable at first glance. What drew me to it was the dead black cat lying in front of one of the graves. Can you see it there, in front of the obelisk-shaped tombstone? I thought to myself then, how strange for a cat to choose that particular spot to die. I wondered if maybe someone had put it there as a morbid sort of joke.
This is a close-up of the poor cat, looking quite a bit worse for wear in the humid midsummer heat of Tennessee. If not for this little guy, I would never have looked twice at this old cemetery, least of all at the unattractive, broken obelisk that marked the grave where this unfortunate feline met his end.
The side of the stone facing the road (I think this would be the west-facing side) reads as follows:
(the top of the stone is broken off or has crumbled away, there is unfortunately no way of knowing how much of it is gone or what was written on that part of the stone)
........the mortal
remains of
JOHN WEATHERED
who was born
in Chesterfield County
Virginia on
the 13(or 18?) day of
February 1773
and died on
the 5. day of
December 1857
Aged 84 years.
The side of the stone facing the church ( the east-facing side, I think) bears the epitaph, which is one of the most moving I have ever seen anywhere, either before or since. It reads:
(continuation from upper portion of stone which is missing)
.......is erected by
his neighbors
as a tribute of
their respect
and veneration
it needs no inscription
to commemorate
his virtuousness(virtues?)
they are embalmed
in the hearts
of those who
knew him and
their influence
will be felt long
after this stone
shall crumble
and mingle with
his dust.
.JPG)
I was so moved by these heartfelt words, left behind by the friends of this elderly man who died more than one hundred and fifty years ago. He must have been a remarkable man, but this stone is all that is left of him. I wonder how long it has been since anyone has thought about him, or read his name aloud. But al these years later, we can still read these words and get a sense of who he was.
I love that.
Last month I spent a week in Savannah, GA, and visited Bonaventure Cemetery. This is perhaps the most beautiful cemetery on earth. My next post will contain some of my favorite monuments from there.
The book is on indefinite hold, since writer's block has held me in the palm of it's ugly hand all summer long. Now that fall is here, I hope to finish the damn thing before long. In the meantime, enjoy my cemetery pictures. That's all I got to show for a summer spent enjoying myself and not writing a lick.
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