March 28, 1994

"Because I could not stop for death, he kindly stopped for me."
                                                Emily Dickinson  -  Poet

Cemeteries, libraries and churches are my favorite places to read, write and think.  They are places where you can be alone and no one will bother you, your privacy respected.  You can stare off into spaces unknown or simply read or write at your leisure. In cemeteries and churches you can cry without being unduly noticed.

I am parked near my nana and grampa Frawley's grave - it is where I'll be buried. There is suitable somberness about this place in the early days of spring.  The trees are bare, the grass is withered and a yellowish brown, old Christmas wreaths hang from some gravestones and there are no flowers in bloom - although there are fresh bouquets on the graves of the recently departed and a few graves have artificial flowers popping out of the ground.  With Easter just a week away, white lilies will soon grace many graves. I have never understood the significance and popularity of Easter lilies  - to me they are the flowers of death, not of hope, renewal and rebirth.

Is there anything sadder than toys on a grave?  As I drove through and around the cemetery, I noticed Matchbox cars and toy soldiers, Hulk Hogan action figures and ballerina slippers, teddy bears and Barbie dolls, baseballs and hockey pucks.  I never realized so many children die. And I wonder why children die on Christmas Day, wonder why and pray, wonder why and cry, wonder why?

I will soon be here, buried beneath this ground next to my grandparents. I have come to recognize death as a friend.  I want to be safe and where it is safe - and this is the place. Dag Hammarskjold wrote, "Do not seek death, death will find you." Unlike Dag and Emily, I have sought death and on the day I have chosen, I will stop and embrace it.

3:00pm   -   Saint Mary's Cemetery   -   Randolph, MA

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