When I was a mere child, my Mum would take me along with her when she’d “visit the cemetery”. We’d walk along the rows of head-stones, reading the names and I’d hear my Mum comment on the ages of some of the folks there, under those granite slabs. Some were, what I thought of as “reasonable old”, having lived many (70, 80 or 90) years.
Others though, would break my Mum’s voice as she commented “So young…” and tears would well in her eyes.
As we strolled, quietly and respectfully, some graves were decorated with flowers, candles (we didn’t have “solar lights” back then, yet), some had photos, others had trinkets. The grass was clipped neatly, no dust on the head-stone, well-attended. But others weren’t so “fine”. They were dusty, black soot and soil in the deeper crevices of the ornate carvings on granite. There were no flowers, no lights, and the grass grew high above the base of the stone. They were desolate in comparison to the others.
“Please…” my Mother would say, “one of these days my turn will come to be here. But please, do your best to see to it that my grave never looks like nobody remembers me or cares whether I lived or died. I don’t want other people coming by and thinking ‘She must be all alone now, there. Look, there’s nobody to care for her grave anymore.'”
Mum’s been gone almost 31 years now. She died at the age of 55 years. I used to live close enough to make sure her wish was honoured… at least twice yearly. These days, well, I’m on what I think of as “7 years borrowed time”… 7 years older now than she was then, when she died. There are others who can take care of her little bit of real estate. They’re closer to it than the several 100 miles that I am. (I can only hope that they respect her as much as she SO deserved.)
Hopefully, there will be those who will remember G’s, and those of us who were there…
It was the 1970’s, Disco music was only just coming along, “DJ’s” were prying their way into the rule, realm and reign of the “juke-box”, we could dance and drink, laugh and cry for a night, a full day, a full week-end, and never lose a breath. Who of us ever thought it would ever end?
If you were there, if you know of some-one who was, at G’s, and they’re no longer dancing on this Earth, please(?), feel free to remind us all. It’s said “the Internet is forever”. Well, obviously we’re not, but if the Internet is… one day, some-where, some-body will stumble here, some-how… and Mr. G’s will STILL “be”.
Please… stop by the “Memorial” page if you would… I mean…
WHO would EVER have thought “our time” would come?
Who would ever have thought they’d be the one left to remember?