Reflections on a Visit to a Graveyard

It was last June. My niece Jessica was getting married to her beloved Curtis. While we waited after the rehearsal for the meal to arrive (long story...), my brother Maupin and I visited the graveyard across the road from Richardsville United Methodist Church (I remember when it was still Richardsville Methodist Episcopal Church South!). We visited our brother's grave. Joe died 34 years ago tomorrow (it was Palm Sunday that year). We visited our parents' grave. And our grandparents'. Both maternal and paternal grandparents are in this graveyard. My father's mother's grandmother is buried behind the Church, the only grave in that location. All the rest are together in the cemetery. So many we had known and loved: Aunt Hattie, Aunt Connie, Aunt Emma, Aunt Fanny, Aunt Kitty, Aunt Ada, Uncle Archie, Uncle Leon, Uncle Jim, Aunt Gee and Uncle Cleve, plus those we never met, but learned to love through our parents' stories: Uncle Seldon, Aunt Annie. But above all Joe, mom and dad, and our grandparents. That's where we lingered.

They've constructed a memorial garden just beyond the Weedon section with a bench. Maup said: "So's you can just sit and remember." He sat for a spell (he was a bit winded that day). I stood beside him and we did remember.

I surely never guessed that the following day would be the last time I'd ever see him in this age. I said our good-byes after the wedding, we headed up to Maryland for a visit with Cindi's family and then home to Illinois. Only to hear in a couple weeks that Maupin had suffered a heart-attack and died. Reflecting on it, I wasn't surprised. He was weak at the wedding; I could see it. Much weaker than I remember him ever being.

We gathered in Richardsville UMC for the funeral and it was such a blessing to see the extended family. But it hit me then as it still does to this day: Maupin was cremated and Nancy, his wife, chose to keep the remains. That means there will be no grave to go visit when we return to Richardsville for him. I grieve for that. I don't know what it is, but there is something about returning to the graves, and remembering, and knowing that here lie the mortal remains of those from whom you came, or to whom you were connected by blood. I can't visit Richardsville without visiting the graveyard. I wish I could get there more often. My sister is so faithful in keeping flowers on the graves of our loved ones. I know some regard that as mere sentimentality. But I think it's more than that. It's a recognition that "what God joined together" death ought not separate. On many of the tombstones there are scripture verses proclaiming this in various ways: "Here we have no continuing city." "If this earthly tabernacle is destroyed..." "Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints."

I'll still remember Maupin. As long as I live I will never be able to forget this brother who was closer to me in age than any of my other siblings (I'm the caboose). But I grieve that there is no place for me to stand by his mortal remains and remember and pray. But I’m grateful I can still stand by Joe’s grave.

Addendum: Cindi asked me years ago where I wanted to be buried. I’d love to say: Richardsville, but here WATER is thicker than BLOOD. I’ll happily be buried in St. Paul’s cemetery in Hamel, which has become our home. And I’ll be near Cindi’s mom. She’s buried here too.