And then there was one...

I am unnaturally drawn to cemeteries. These are photos I took at a Catholic cemetery in Monterey, CA. Some of the headstones actually have a black and white photo of the deceased, under oval-shaped glass. But the grave sites I find most haunting or those with weather-worn, chipped, moss covered statues. I never tire of walking the grounds of a cemetery. Our family, on my mother's side, is buried in Empire, CA. There is a plot there for me. I am also unnaturally comforted knowing that someday whatever remains of me will be there, next to those who left me behind. (Altho my children are threatening to have my remains cremated and made into some type of hard stone that can be set into a pendant and worn - - talk about not cutting the apron strings!!!). I think the idea that hits me the hardest is at the end of it all, we are just one. One headstone. One niche in a wall. One statue to somehow encompass the loss or celebration of one life. Yes, spring is around the corner, and the days are now longer, and little purple flowers are popping up among the grasses on my plateau and I am grateful for each single sign of new life and new beginnings. And I am cognizant of what and who came before and has gone on ahead.