If it does and any of you come to check out the post, could you please leave a comment, here on this blog, so that I will know if it is posting? Thanks!

Will write more soon…

Enjoy!

- F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby, Ch. 6

~Simon and Garfunkel

I was right, this person was a Pacific Islander, based on the name and the picture on the headstone. I actually took a picture of the headstone, but won’t post it, out of respect for the family. I’m sure they don’t want some random person posting pics of it on her silly little blog.

He died on March 13, 2011 and was just 25 years old. I did a search for an obit, to see if I could find out more info, but could not find one. Twenty five is so incredibly young. He was obviously well loved, considering the fact that he has a group of visitors at his grave site almost every single night. I wish I could stop and hug each one of them, get them to tell me stories about him and maybe cry with them for a bit.

See, this is what I do when I have a month off from school with nothing else to do.

If the video does not show up, click this link to see it. Conversations with Aeris

Many times as I drive by the cemetery I see employees setting up for funerals, families gathered for a funeral, backhoes digging the graves and families visiting graves sites. When holidays occur, the cemetery gets packed with flowers, balloons and other decorations, especially on Memorial Day or Veterans Day. You can tell when it must have been someones birthday or who loved Christmas or Halloween, depending on how a grave site is decorated.

There is something different about his family though. Like I said, they are there every evening. It doesn’t matter if it is good weather, or if it is raining or if there is a foot of snow on the ground. I don’t recall seeing a recent burial in that area, so I’m not sure if this was a recent loss or not, but I would assume it is.

The family is obviously from Pacific Island heritage. This is the only clue I have to why they are there every single day. There are usually three to six people there and they often set up lawn chairs. I want to stop and talk to them. I want to know who this person was and why they are there every day. Is it a cultural thing of some sort? Was it a loss so great they feel compelled to return daily to keep the connection?

I’ve tried a couple of times to snap a picture of them, sorry they are kind of crappy pics.

One of these days I will stop to look at the headstone to see if I can get any more information. I like to walk through cemeteries any way, although I don’t personally understand the need to visit the grave sites of my relatives or place flowers or other decorations at a grave. This subject can fill another entire post, so I will save it for another time.

Perhaps someone will know that I didn’t weave bloody crowns, that I fought against mockery, and that with truth I filled the high tide of my soul.
I repaid vileness with doves.

I have no never because I was, I am, I will be different.
And in the name of my ever-changing love I proclaim purity.

Death is only the stone of oblivion.
I love you, on your lips I kiss happiness itself.
Let’s gather firewood. We’ll light a fire on the moutaintop.

~ Pablo Neruda