I walk longer today than I usually do. I wander all the way down to the cemetery and spend a short time walking through a few graves of people I don't know. Is it sadder to visit someone you know who has died, or to not know the people whose graves you wander through? My relatives are not in this cemetery--they rest in cemeteries that I never visit. I do, however, know a person buried in this cemetery, a young teacher who died suddenly and left those who worked with him in pain and disbelief. I only knew him slightly, so it's not significant that I visit his grave. I remember after he died, it was the adults who needed the support and grieving assistance. Many who grieved for him thought their grief was doubled by the thought of the 7-year-olds who were sad about losing their teacher. But the children accepted and moved on much faster than the adults. Children often take things for what they are and don't dredge past experiences into present losses. It's the adults who spend time warding off the related thoughts that buzz around their brains.

I'm in the cemetery because today is Easter, and I feel I should do something significant. But I've lost whatever I used to find significant about the day. As a child I went to church and listened to the story of the stone being rolled away from the tomb. I listened to the story of the good samaritan. I learned lessons that I applied to the real world. Some have fit and some haven't. At times I've thought I had the world figured out; now, the older I get, it seems the less I really know.

Blended in with the thoughts of my own childhood Easters are thoughts of the Easters with my own children. The egg hunts, the rabbits scattered around the house, and the weight of trying to provide some meaning or tradition for them are aspects of the holiday that are now included in the box inside my brain marked EASTER. I note again that as an adult, I dredge much more into this than need be. I wish I were 5 and only finding joy inside my Easter basket.

As I leave the cemetery, I kick a stone through the iron gates at the exit. I now know that I came here not to visit the dead, but to put the dead weight of past memories to rest.


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