It must be almost a week and a half since I walked among the stones. Some were old and laying covered in a bed of grass to sleep; their owners under them. The one I came to see was new and it stood straight up with the family name proudly displayed at the top. A cross went down the middle and while the dates on the left were missing, the right side displayed a name.
Jack.
Aug 8, 1932-Nov 23,2011
Now I hadn't been to see his grave since the day we laid my grandfather in it but much to my delight these words were under the date; "I know that my Redeemer lives" Job 19:25
I continued to walk among the stones. Some had phrases like "beloved husband and father" "mother of" some had Bible verses, and one said "at peace at last." I wondered what kind of a person lay underneath such a stone. Had this person struggled long with his fight on earth? Had he really found peace when he departed?
I circled around and came back to stand before my grandfather's grave. He had not been a perfect man, not by any means. He had told us not to fuss about whatever Grandma served us and he himself ate everything, no matter what it looked like--except potato peels, he had a great dislike for potato peels. He loved his dogs and horses and kept a peacock. He smoked in the backroom so Grandma wouldn't have to breath it in. He played the trumpet. He liked me to play his little organ. He kept a stuffed owl on a high self in his back room where his grandchildren used to play; that owl's eyes could follow everyone all at the same time. He hated traveling. He had died of cancer.
No one would know all these things by looking at his grave. All they would know is how long he lived, who he was married to, and that "I know that my Redeemer lives." Those were the only thing written in his stone. When it comes down to it those were the most important things in his life. The only things really worth remembering.
What will be written in your stone?
*the beginning of this post was started from a journal entry from the summer of 2013.
Jack.
Aug 8, 1932-Nov 23,2011
Now I hadn't been to see his grave since the day we laid my grandfather in it but much to my delight these words were under the date; "I know that my Redeemer lives" Job 19:25
I continued to walk among the stones. Some had phrases like "beloved husband and father" "mother of" some had Bible verses, and one said "at peace at last." I wondered what kind of a person lay underneath such a stone. Had this person struggled long with his fight on earth? Had he really found peace when he departed?
I circled around and came back to stand before my grandfather's grave. He had not been a perfect man, not by any means. He had told us not to fuss about whatever Grandma served us and he himself ate everything, no matter what it looked like--except potato peels, he had a great dislike for potato peels. He loved his dogs and horses and kept a peacock. He smoked in the backroom so Grandma wouldn't have to breath it in. He played the trumpet. He liked me to play his little organ. He kept a stuffed owl on a high self in his back room where his grandchildren used to play; that owl's eyes could follow everyone all at the same time. He hated traveling. He had died of cancer.
No one would know all these things by looking at his grave. All they would know is how long he lived, who he was married to, and that "I know that my Redeemer lives." Those were the only thing written in his stone. When it comes down to it those were the most important things in his life. The only things really worth remembering.
What will be written in your stone?
*the beginning of this post was started from a journal entry from the summer of 2013.
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