In youth we know we’ll live forever.
In aging we know we will not.
Which brings me to the topic of the week: How are you going to pick a burial plot?
Subjects like that come up at many ‘viewings,? like my most recent one following the death of a friend.
Of course, some don’t believe they will ever die, that they are one of the chosen few. Maybe one of the 170,000 Remnants some believe will be left.
Picking a grave site under the timing urgency can only add to the grieving period. At this time you’re doing the deceased’s thinking. Let’s see, would she/he like a hillside and flatland? A roadside or hidden corner? Wooded or grassy?
This selection can be like picking a home or business site: location, location, location. It’s very important at the time to try to fulfill the wishes of the lost one.
A major consideration is closeness to family. My sister has told her children to bury her wherever she dies. Others, too, have this ‘whatever?? attitude. Just say good-bye and put me down, she says.
She won’t even rule out cremation, though it’s not a choice for my offspring. After all, I bought this burying plot at a good price over 25 years ago and I want it used.
See, the price of the property can also be a consideration. And, do they allow fake flowers, upright headstones, grave blankets, and have running water, good upkeep and snow removal?
The easiest time to pick a grave site is when you’re young, your beliefs aren’t well established, it can be looked at like an investment and you can check that off your list of things to do.
My friend was an especially friendly person. He loved talking to people. So, the family’s first site choice was alongside the entrance road so he could greet people. Some others must have thought the same, because there were no such places left in their cemetery.
Second choice, a hillside where he could look out over and check on others. And, that’s where he is today.
He’s such a good, wholesome and friendly man I’m sure he’s thanking the family for their choice.
As important as this site selection becomes, it is most often put off until the need. By far the majority of grave selections are made after the death of the needy.
I guess that fits the pattern of the majority- put it off until tomorrow. My mottos are: If it’s inevitable, do it now, and plan ahead, be ahead.
And, my farm-girl Hazel is close to a road, shaded by a tree and less than a mile from her home.
– – – 0 – – –
Does your train of thought have a caboose?
Caboose? What’s a caboose? Railroad owners have eliminated them, and soon Webster will too. So, I say, concentrate on the engine.
Engines are leaders, and like most leaders they toot their own horn at every crossing, at children waving by the tracks and use it as a gesture to motorists lined up behind guardrails.
Train engines used to have worshipers, people who admired their cowcatchers out front, their billowing smokestacks and trailing coal cars. Who can admire the sleek, clad engines on today’s trains?
I liked it when the engines with the big crank spun the iron wheels as the steam began the movement of an 80-car train on its deliver/pick up route.
My ol? man was a railroad man, and we were required as kids to count the cars being pulled by every railroad engine at every crossing that stopped his car. He never complained about the engine possibly making him late for whatever.
He’d count the cars and grin, while those lined up behind him honked, spat or cursed.
Dad also told me Humpty Dumpty was pushed.