Tributes to The Rev

Dec 12, 2013 - Good Shepherd Cemetery

„I have no idea what's so funny about it." I said a little annoyed.

"Oh nothing really. It's just ... I don't see the point in visiting a grave. A grave of a guy you didn't even know." My best friend chuckled as she stopped at a red light.

"You wouldn't understand even if I explained it to you." I mumbled and looked out of my window.

It was Thursday, around 2 pm and the sun was shining in OC, California. My best friend Elisabeth and I were driving down Main Street to get to the Good Shepherd Cemetery because I wanted to visit a grave before I left back home on Saturday. For her it didn't make any sense. Why would you visit a grave of a person you never knew, in a town you have only been to once before? For me it meant so much more.

When we reached the parking lot of the cemetery I grew a little nervous. I had no idea why; I mean I have been to graveyards before. Maybe it was because of the person and the story behind him. I guess I will never know. 

This nervous fluttering in the pit of my stomach grew with every step that brought me closer to the entrance. It was a beautiful iron gate with sandy colored stone pillars. The middle pillar with the name sign of the cemetery was almost covered in a bougainvillea, a pretty climbing plant with pink blossoms. I looked down to my feet, seeing them walking past this pillar and right inside a place of peace, sadness and memories. I felt it. I felt it all rushing through me: The cries of the loved ones left behind, the light laughter of them remembering happy moments, their silence when they let go. It was a familiar feeling that always managed to bring me close to tears. And even though this wasn't the graveyard where members of my family rested in peace I thought back in my own memories where they lived on forever. 

Looking up from the concrete beneath my feet I felt a little surprised and I guess my face showed it because Elisabeth chuckled lightly. 

"What?" She asked as we started walking. 

"This is not a graveyard. This is a park." I said in awe. That was when I spotted the countless rectangular memorial plates in the grass. That was something completely new to me. German graveyards were filled with hedges, standing tombstones and huge trees. They were all in all pretty dark and more sad than anything. So seeing this open park-like cemetery with the sun shining onto the graves filled me more with some sort of joy, knowing that those people were in a different and maybe better place now. I wasn't sad at all. I actually enjoyed walking along the graves reading the inscriptions and wondering what the stories of those people were. 

After a long while of searching, we finally found the plate we were looking for.

Beloved Son, Brother, Best Friend

James Owen Sullivan

1981 - 2009

Jimmy jumped into life

and never touched bottom

There it was: The grave that was dug way too early in time. 

Ignoring the ignorant couple talking loudly on the phone next to his grave I took off my sunglasses as I crouched down and lightly touched the grass in front of the plate. My best friend stepped back giving me some space as I zoned out completely. With the sun shining on my back a heavy sadness was washing through me and forced my eyes closed.

"Hi Jimmy. My name is Katie and we haven't met before. Well, technically we can never really meet but considering that I now believe in an eternal life after our bodies crumbled into dust I think this also pretty much counts as a first meeting before I join the afterlife. So yeah ... how are you doing? You probably miss your family and friends, especially during this time of the year. It's been what? ... four years now since you left this place leaving them behind devastated. No offence but it's true. And not just them. There are so many people in this world that miss you and love you with all of their hearts. I witnessed this sadness and pain with my own two eyes late November when your brothers played a show in Munich after god knows how many years. That girl next to me cried her eyes out while they played Fiction. Even I had to struggle holding back tears and believe me when I say that I hardly cry for people I have never met. But since I have learned of Avenged early this year I wasn't able to listen to So Far Away and Fiction for more than three times each. The pain of your brothers and best friends is so touchable, so apparent that one forgets about one's own problems. Nothing else matters but their pain, their anger, their question why.