THE CEMETERY

Almost a week after All Saints' Day I am still haunted by that place called the Cemetery. It is a place associated with silence as when one says, "silent as a grave". Any talk therefore about it is a bold attempt to disturb its serenity, its peace and sacredness. But a cemetery is also a common place and common places are good topics for common sense.

Nowadays, when cemeteries are already known as Memorial Parks and common senses are getting more uncommon, it is about this time that we should talk about the riddle of the tombs.

A cemetery no matter how it is arranged and wherever it is located, is always like a museum... full of dead things. The grasses may be greener and the air truly fresher, but still a cemetery is not a lively place. Yet, a cemetery is a symbol of many things. It is a historical record written in dirty bones. It talks of the past, speaks of the present and tells everything about the future. All the time it only says the truth. What in this world can talk about the truth better than a cemetery?

The day before All Saints' Day I brought my two grand daughters both to the Old Municipal Cemetery and the New Memorial Park. I was surprised that they both enjoyed the unusual place. They asked me so many questions that somehow challenged my sanity for a while. It was a learning experience.

Through cemeteries, past events are known and understood, present life is patterned and future improvements are being evaluated; but all the time the cemetery is insisting that man is limited, for man is going to die. Who can argue against the logic of the tomb?

An extension was under construction for reserved Mausoleums, I even suggested that they put up a Crematorium as many of the new generations are intending to be cremated, including myself.

Of course everything has been tried and are still being tried to prevent death, but the cemetery won't give way. It is always there, calling, waiting and willing to care for the remains of man in different manners. It is the very symbol of equality, the fair judge of all lives, the final destiny of our mortal bodies.

I have created my own grave site. It is a circular area planted to a Cypress tree where my ashes shall be scattered around after I am cremated when I die. My wife said she would join me there.

Many are afraid to die because many are afraid of the truth. They are scared of cemeteries because they are scared of themselves. Man is indeed funny, living a funny life in a funny world. On the other hand, the cemetery is lifeless... that is why it is always serious, that is why it is always for the truth and that is why it is a lonely place. Yet, a cemetery is not the end. It is not the finality of man, for man is immortal and his immortality goes beyond the grave. But man does not realize this until he reaches a cemetery where he learns the lesson. Most of the time, too late.

The cemetery is the gateway to Eternity. It is the spiritual labor room where man is born to an endless world. It is the light that reflects a beam of brightness to the image of God in everyone; the light that is bright enough to show the reality of God to man.

It is very clear that the cemetery is the Truth, the Life, the Way and the Light of man. Why then fear such a great and important place? A cemetery, after all, is God's indispensable instrument teaching man to understand himself. It is man's reminder of God's Omnipotence, the link that connects the creatures to their Creator.

Death is an inevitable affair. It will come to everyone. To some, death will come earlier and to others, death will pay a later visit but to everyone, death is a must. It is just like that... There is nothing that man can do to prevent it. Let us therefore face death with smile and courage because that is the only avenue that will bring us to Eternity, the only boulevard towards God.

If the Cemetery could talk, it will relate many stories, Tales of bones and skulls as well as experiences of dirty particles of dust. It will tell adventures of greatness, of victory and defeat, of success and failure. If it could paint, it would draw pictures of beauty, it will paint patterns of colors. If it could, it would sing melodies of happiness and frustrations. Yes, it would impart the lives of the many men buried in it. If the cemetery could only talk... But no, for the cemetery is "silent as a grave". It is just a place for the dead and the dead can do nothing. It cannot talk, it cannot paint, it cannot sing, it had to keep quiet.

From this cold, clammy and quiet piece of land we call the cemetery, let us go and study ourselves. We no longer can feel the powers of those great leaders of long ago for they are gone. Nothing was left of them but pieces of dirty bones buried underneath the green carpet of grass. Where are the beauties that we all longed to possess? They were eaten by the worms inside those shiny catacombs. That is the cemetery... a mute piece of earth where God has written the following passage: "Remember man that thou art dust and unto dust thou shalt return".

The following day, All Souls' Day, my wife and I went to the other town where her parents and siblings, my in-laws, were buried. Because of the traffic we were delayed and arrived there as the night was beginning to engulf the day. There were no more people...only us and her brother.

We lighted two candles, whispered a short prayer and left the place which literally was really "silent as a grave".