Agnes and Adelaide

I went for a walk through the cemetery yesterday. The Logan Cemetery is one of my favorite spots in Cache Valley. It is peaceful, obviously quiet, and calm. Being there quells any anxiety I might be nurturing. Life can be very anxiety-producing, and everybody needs a getaway spot. I just happen to like hanging out with dead people. Don't be nervous; I don't see dead people, I just enjoy walking through their final resting place, soaking up the ambience.

Walking around looking at headstones gives me perspective. I think, as I walk, about all of these people for whom it is done. Whatever it is that they intended to do with their life, whatever plans they had, whatever worries rested upon their shoulders, exist no more. Gone with them, into whatever comes next. I don't wish my own life was over, and I don't relish the thought of joining my friends there in the cemetery. But it does help me to realize that most of what I worry about is temporary, and trivial. It reminds me to pay attention to what matters most in my life. Who matters most. The people I love.

Because love is what I feel when I walk through the cemetery. I am not a very spiritual person, meaning that I am not much in tune to what others have described as 'the spirit'. If it isn't concrete, I struggle to get it. Except in the cemetery. I read headstones, with their birth and death dates, and usually some clue to the relationship that existed between loved ones, and I'm moved by the emotion that went into creating that memorial. I'm moved by the connections that were formed, bonds that continue on after death. Some move me to tears. One in particular.

I stumbled across an old marker a couple of years ago, one that I feel compelled to return to, again and again. It is made out of cement, and shaped like a podium, with words etched into the top and sides. Across the top it reads:

To the

 Ever blessed memory of

Adelaide Cochran Barrett

 November 2, 1842 

January 20, 1910

This spot is forever dedicated by her friend

 Agnes C. Cassidy

There are other dates etched into the sides, presumably death and birth dates of Agnes. On either side of the podium, there are small headstones, each with only initials etched into the stone. ACB and ACC. And no other clues as to the relationship that existed between the two women. The first time I saw it, I leaned on the podium itself, read the words, and cried. My husband was with me at the time, and he remarked, "This must be the first feminist gravesite in the cemetery", because the site was dedicated by a woman. Maybe. I tried to research the names, using my friend Google, without any luck. I don't know who these women were; I don't know the relationship between them, whether they were sisters, sister-wives, neighbors, or best friends. Or lovers. All I do know is that Agnes loved Adelaide, so much so that she declared her devotion in stone, for all the world to see. And when I stand in front of it, I feel that love, and that connection. I take a regular route when I walk through the cemetery, pausing for a moment each time in front of this monument to two friends, reflecting on the relationship between Agnes and Adelaide. And vowing to love my own friends and family with the same devotion and dedication.

My religious journey has led me to an entirely unexpected place. I'm not fond of labels, but if I had to apply one to myself, it would be agnostic atheist. Meaning that I don't believe in God, but I don't know that one doesn't exist, and I'm not all that concerned with the question. I don't believe it is a knowable proposition. For me, anyway. Others claim to know, and I can't refute their testimony of their truth, because it is just that, their truth. And this is mine.

This week, a friend asked me about my morals, now that I no longer count myself amongst the religious. She had been in a conversation with another friend, who asserted that those who have lost their belief in God have also lost their moral compass. And she was interested to know what I thought, and where my beliefs came from, if not from God. I replied that I believe in integrity, and compassion, and in applying the Golden Rule in my relationships with others. What I left out was that I believe in humanity, in people, and in the deep, mysterious, powerful forces that connect us with one another. I believe in love. (And not just as a song lyric.) I believe in time spent nurturing those connections, and making sure that the people in my life know how much they mean to me.  Because, some day, I'm going to be six feet under (or sprinkled in the ocean, or mixed into potting soil for a tree), and it will be done. I will be no more. And the only things I will leave behind are the connections I made with the ones I love. Memories of our lives together, and maybe a headstone marking the spot of my final resting place.

I already know what I want that headstone to say. In the words of one of my favorite entertainers:

 

I'm so glad we've had this time together

Just to have a laugh, or sing a song.

Seems we just get started

And before you know it,

Comes the time we have to say,

So long.

Good night, everybody

 

 

That's it. That says it all. I had a great time, a few laughs, sang a goofy song or two, and it's over. And I hope that when people read it, especially my posterity, they will smile. And remember the love.