When I walked trough the cemetery, I felt all the cold empty bodies all around me. They flew past, walked through and existed around me. I had walked away from the rest of the group, couldn't stand the forced happiness and laughter, couldn't stand the faked normality. Nothing was normal and won't be too soon.
It was right after the ceremony. We had listened to that unemotional man in the front, his speech and song was beautiful. I cried through it, my family too. We all was there for my grandpa, died of suicide. A painless death. Every thing was orange as the decor and coffin, flowers and the walls followed the original color. It all had mixed into one gorgeous orange, with the help of tears.
The cemetery, filled with thousands of big grand stones with deaths going between 1886 til 2021, was empty except the lady singing praises and the man out on a run. As I walked I saw these of young people, who lived under ten years, the one of the baby who lived less than a year or the one who died the same day it was born. I knew that other people had walked these exact paths, feeling their own sorrow, and I felt as I was understood. The feeling of never standing alone in this time in life, in this emotional state, that other people have been in and some still are, some may just have gotten here like me.
Maybe one time people will feel my non-existence, ghost, spirit walk through them. Maybe they will feel the presence of my soul, and see my nearest sing their own praises and prayers. Maybe I will be able to help them with their sorrow, heal it or take it away, lift that weight of their shoulders. Healy like the souls healed me as I walked through the enchanting cemetery .
Rest In Peace Grandpa 💕🪦
