Things that go bump in the cemetery…I do believe in spooks…
I do believe in spooks, I do believe in spooks, I do, I do, I do, I do, I do believe in spooks! So said the Cowardly Lion in The Wizard of Oz. And, I think I have to agree with him…just in case.
I mean, I know my God, my Creator, my Spiritual Highness and my Supreme Being exists for me. But, I know there’s evil out there, too. And it scares the bajeebers out of me! I know not where it lurks, at any given time, and I’m on constant guard (at least on a low simmer most of the time) in case it tries to catch me off guard. Although, I don’t think I live in fear, per se, just a bit cautious. I do believe that God will protect me if I call on Him if needed–at least that’s what I’ve been taught.
I spend most of my days laughing (as much as possible, because I just like “funny”) with my friends and family. And I always try to stay positive about my life and any situations that occur. But, I’m also realistic. I’ve had the “if there’s good in this world, there has to be bad, too” discussions and contemplations. And I’ve read about the unexplainable evil possessions that take over some innocent victim’s soul, or a family’s house, or those who would attempt to build on a sacred Indian burial ground, etc. The T.V. is full of all types of ghost hunter shows and such.
But just writing about this stuff or talking about it out loud or hearing about it makes the hairs on my arms stand on end. I’m a big scaredy cat, I guess. I’ve had some experiences that made me shake in my boots, so to speak. And I don’t know if I’ll ever quit being afraid of the dark, no matter how old I get.
I’ve always been afraid of cemeteries. Yes, really! Could you tell? But this past summer, I wanted to find my paternal grandfather’s and grandmother’s graves. I hadn’t been to them in years, and I never really visited them that often before–because I’m afraid of cemeteries, remember? So, I set out with my son and daughter, to find their markers in the place that I remembered them last.
I picked a bright sunny day, of course. And we left early in the afternoon. The cemetery wasn’t that far from our house. We’ve driven by it plenty of times, and, occasionally, I would point out to my children, “that’s where Grandpa’s mom and dad are buried” while pointing in the general direction as I drove right on past. But this time we drove straight there. I pulled cautiously into the driveway on the side of the cemetery where I remembered them being buried. I knew we were going to have to get out and walk, but I still tried to park our car as close as possible to where I thought they were–just in case we had to make a run for it.
My kids, being the adventurers they are (teenagers, you know–they know no fear) took off immediately to check the place out. Crap! They were going to make me brave it alone. Why the heck did I bring them for, anyway? They were suppose to be my backup just in case we ran across something horrible coming up from the ground that might try to grab me by the leg and pull me under.
After crossing the same area back and forth numerous times, I finally found my grandfather’s grave and marker. I was so ecstatic that I forgot to be scared about where I was at the time. His picture was on the headstone and I couldn’t believe how much my dad looked like him. I could only remember him from when I was very little. But what I remember about him most are the wonderful smells of food cooking at his house. …and that he seemed very big (tall).
I knew my grandmother had to be close by. I began to walk the area back and forth across, searching for her headstone. The afternoon had really warmed up, and the sun felt good on my face and back as I walked along. Finally, I saw it. Her picture was on her headstone, too. She was younger than I remembered her, but her smile was the same as always.
I whistled for my children and motioned for them to come over to where I was standing. There were so excited when I showed them their great grandparents. I had my camera with me and I took some shots of their markers. Then I told my kids everything I could remember about my grandparents. They soaked it all up and walked along with me as I spoke to them.
We walked a ways more, and then I told them I was going to take some shots of the area. It just seemed so peaceful and calm. I found my uncle’s grave and took a shot of his headstone.
As I was walking around, the kids had gone off in another direction to continue to explore, I realized that I was enjoying myself and felt at peace. I thought about my grandparents, about my grandmother’s garden and the smells of garlic and cilantro that grew next to the rose-bush with the bright red flowers in her backyard. I remembered her mother, my great-grandmother, sitting inside in her bedroom, her long silver hair in two long braids that reached to her waist. She would tie them up across the top of her head, and I thought she was beautiful.
I wasn’t scared of where I was anymore. The afternoon was gorgeous as the sun headed to the horizon. I took more shots of the peace I saw and felt.
The sun was really getting low now. We prepared to leave. We said our last good-byes and promised to never forget, and maybe even come back sometime soon.
That was this past summer. I haven’t been back since. But I have my photos that I made and printed off and gave to my dad for his birthday. He cried… I hugged him and it was nice.
Halloween is just about a week-and-a-half away. So, I think I’ll just keep driving by until maybe the late winter or early spring. Maybe then I’ll be able to go again. In the meantime, I’m starting to feel that creepy feeling again about the cemetery. I mean, you just can’t be too careful…you just never know…
I DO BELIEVE IN SPOOKS, I DO BELIEVE IN SPOOKS, I DO, I DO, I DO, I DO, I DO BELIEVE IN SPOOKS…!!!