Sunday, May 22, 2016
I was worried, back in March when we went bluebonnet hunting, that we had timed the season too early. The first half of our drive revealed lots of indian paintbrushes and a few bluebonnets but none of the huge fields of blue I was used to seeing. When we turned off into La Grange on a whim, this little cemetery caught my eye. It was such a beautiful combination, the waves of blue disrupted only by strong white stones. What a peaceful place to be buried, what a peaceful place to lay a loved one to rest.
I love cemeteries and always have. I find the whole thing oddly comforting, wandering through old monuments, reading inscriptions, and matching up family members like puzzle pieces. Each stone is an intensely personal snapshot of history.
Of course, a cemetery is a place for grief, but I think it's also a record of love. At every headstone I find myself thinking, someone somewhere loved this person, and chose this stone, and this inscription as a lasting reminder of their life.
In La Grange, love is a field of bluebonnets and stone.