I went for a bike ride this evening. It was hot and humid so the turn around point for me is cemetery. It's not a very large one, set a top a hill in the farmland. There was much activity there tonight as loved ones readied their departed's graves with bouquets and wreaths in remembrance of Memorial Day. I vividly recalled when Beth and I drove through the famed Bonaventure Cemetery in Savannah, Georgia. It was a massive area and we quickly found ourselves lost among the graves and tombs. We drove around and discovered a section of the graveyard that obviously belonged to those of the Jewish faith. There were no flowers at all, rather all of the graves looked as if an angry mob had driven through and pelted a shower of rocks on the tombstones. At first, I was appalled, were we witness to some horrid form of racism? And then we noticed that the scattering of rocks was not haphazard, but deliberate and lovingly planned arrangements.
When we found our way out through the massive wrought iron gates we stopped and asked the security guards what the rocks meant. He explained that in the Jewish faith, they did not believe in leaving flowers on a grave because flowers die, but rocks are an everlasting symbol of remembrance. It left me speechless. Could it be possible that some of those stones were laid on the graves decades and decades ago? Were they freshly placed by a descendant? There was no way to tell.
Our lives are quite momentary. It is hoped that we will leave behind those who will cherish our memories and our love. How quickly will we be forgotten and how many flowers will be left on our grave? How do I want to be remembered? Oh...that's easy! Remember me with a bouquet of lilacs. Remember me with a handful of rocks. Remember me when you scoop Kitty litter or when you are on a long bike ride. Remember me when you see a chocolate Easter bunny or a newborn kitten. Most important....remember.
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