sectional divisions in cemeteries
so while i was in tucson waiting for gordon to get home on sunday, i decided to try to find my grandpa's grave. i tried this once before.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
a few years ago, gordon and i were driving down oracle to go hiking in the catalinas. i noticed on the left-hand side of the road a cemetery that looked like the one where my grandpa was buried. i had all these thoughts suddenly about how no one prolly goes down there. then i started to wonder how people find where they are going at cemeteries.
first we drove near the area i "felt" like where he was buried. for some reason i had a thought of trees, but i was ten the last time i was there so who knows. quickly we realized intuition was not going to work. but i was on a mission. how do you find someone at a cemetery?
we found an office. we started (inappropriately) laughing in the car at the thought of going in and getting directions to where someone is buried. i know that's morbid. and i shouldn't be laughing. but it's really bizarre to think about the fact that someone's job is to look up where dead people are buried all day.
gordon decided to wait in the car since we were having trouble taking this seriously. i mean, there are people there who are legitimately upset. i was sad when my grandpa died, but he was older and we got along well. i had nothing to really be upset about. i just miss him sometimes.
the friendly lady inside had a computer and looked up the name. i guess this is more common than i thought; people randomly showing up. she read the screen for a minute, looked kinda disappointed, and then said "oh, he's on the catholic side".
at this point, i really wanted to laugh, so i just left. i didn't ask where.
the catholic side was right next door; however there was some sort of waterway, so there was NO road connecting the two. you have to get back onto the busy almost-freeway that is oracle. and at this point, i figured gordon had put up with this weirdness long enough, i just left. i tried.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
so this time while waiting for gordon on sunday, i was on a mission. first i wanted to find flowers. but there were no easy-to-find grocery stores. i looked one up on my phone, but ended up at an asian market with only bamboo for sale. i did remember last time seeing a sign that the cemetery throws away flowers in late january, so why bother getting creative.
across the street was a family dollar. i got two sets of fake white flowers. i kept thinking of the last funeral i was at and jill's friend's voice was in my head asking why there were so many fake flowers. but i'm not going to keep driving around for real ones.
finally, i arrived at holy hope. again, i tried to follow this intuition bullshit, but of course found nothing. apparently there are no trees on the catholic side. i drove around to find the office. in the back was this large building that had signs that made me think it's a church. i walked around, but it was one of those mausoleums where everyone is in the walls. there was a guy sitting cross-legged in the grassy space in the middle, playing with a long leaf. that made me sad.
cemeteries are odd. whoever you're looking for, is not there. they're gone. we have memories, but that is it. that body in the ground is not them. we can choose to remember them wherever we want. i personally choose to remember my grandpa every time i see the credits roll at the movies. he was a driver for the movies. he liked to see the people he knew. the employees would be cleaning the theatres, and he'd still sit there.
but why remember someone's body? in a place with no memories? i guess i've never had anyone terribly close pass so i don't understand. it's the reason i can write so cavalier about this i suppose. the only memories are the emotional trauma of having to look at a body there.
at my grandfather's wake, i was without my parents for a few minutes. my aunt asked me to view my grandfather. that was the last thing i wanted. i'm sorry, parents did not raise me with religion. and grandpa had cancer.
a week prior, he called me by my cousin's name. his hands shook and he need help putting his necklace on my neck. i knew he was gone. i didn't need to see the body. standing on the little steps i lost it. i fell to my knees. my mom came over and i am pretty sure she was upset with my aunt for taking me up there.
yet there i was at the cemetery in 2012 looking for the grave of a man i had not seen in almost twenty years.
there was not one office in the mausoleum. so i drove around again. i couldn't find anything else that looked like an office. the non-catholic aka white people side (as my dad put it) had small directory type signs, so i looked for something like that, nothing. then i went online to look for their phone number.
the first result though was a website called "find a grave", so i just had to check this out. you enter a name, minimal information, the website tells you where someone is buried. there was a section number, a row number, even a specific ID number. organization! yes! i wrote this down. then i noticed a little spot in the corner where you can leave e-flowers. i tried to do this, but you have to be a "member". i'm in a car, no time for this.
eagerly i start driving around to find section 2n. i find no section numbers though. what the fuck. seriously?! what's the point of information at that level of detail with no markers?!
i try to call. guess what, the cemetery office is closed on sunday. sunday, a slow day for cemeteries? i don't believe it.
frustrated, i go back to intuition area, park, and start looking for the 7th row. nothing. and i realized, 7th from where? this could take all day. i noticed graves from the 1800s. i'm sorry william, but 1860? no one who remembers you is coming to visit. it's a little selfish to claim an entire spot of land for your rotting body until the rapture. and some of us know we aren't going to be in the rapture, so why bother?!
i gave up. i figured it was time to move onto the next big hunt of praying st. mary's still had the large tortillas for sale at 2pm. on my way out, i found an office. i drove up to see if maybe there was a directory, or someone happened to be there, but no. on my way out, i noticed a section number painted on a curb: 1n. huzzah! maybe i was close.
i continued driving around the cemetery staring at curbs. can you believe that no other curb had a section number painted on it? this was the last straw. i left, once again without seeing my grandfather's grave, fake flowers in the trunk.
the next morning my aunt and uncle told me they could have taken me there. apparently they go on memorial day. and i'm sure i could have called someone. it just felt so silly. i wasn't there to grieve because my loss was too great to bear, i just wanted to pay my respects. the thought of his gave sitting there, waiting for flowers, with no one coming to visit made me sad. made ME sad. but i knew driving out of holy hope that he would appreciate the effort. and probably laugh about the craziness of the whole situation; even if we were at a cemetery.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
a few years ago, gordon and i were driving down oracle to go hiking in the catalinas. i noticed on the left-hand side of the road a cemetery that looked like the one where my grandpa was buried. i had all these thoughts suddenly about how no one prolly goes down there. then i started to wonder how people find where they are going at cemeteries.
first we drove near the area i "felt" like where he was buried. for some reason i had a thought of trees, but i was ten the last time i was there so who knows. quickly we realized intuition was not going to work. but i was on a mission. how do you find someone at a cemetery?
we found an office. we started (inappropriately) laughing in the car at the thought of going in and getting directions to where someone is buried. i know that's morbid. and i shouldn't be laughing. but it's really bizarre to think about the fact that someone's job is to look up where dead people are buried all day.
gordon decided to wait in the car since we were having trouble taking this seriously. i mean, there are people there who are legitimately upset. i was sad when my grandpa died, but he was older and we got along well. i had nothing to really be upset about. i just miss him sometimes.
the friendly lady inside had a computer and looked up the name. i guess this is more common than i thought; people randomly showing up. she read the screen for a minute, looked kinda disappointed, and then said "oh, he's on the catholic side".
at this point, i really wanted to laugh, so i just left. i didn't ask where.
the catholic side was right next door; however there was some sort of waterway, so there was NO road connecting the two. you have to get back onto the busy almost-freeway that is oracle. and at this point, i figured gordon had put up with this weirdness long enough, i just left. i tried.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
so this time while waiting for gordon on sunday, i was on a mission. first i wanted to find flowers. but there were no easy-to-find grocery stores. i looked one up on my phone, but ended up at an asian market with only bamboo for sale. i did remember last time seeing a sign that the cemetery throws away flowers in late january, so why bother getting creative.
across the street was a family dollar. i got two sets of fake white flowers. i kept thinking of the last funeral i was at and jill's friend's voice was in my head asking why there were so many fake flowers. but i'm not going to keep driving around for real ones.
finally, i arrived at holy hope. again, i tried to follow this intuition bullshit, but of course found nothing. apparently there are no trees on the catholic side. i drove around to find the office. in the back was this large building that had signs that made me think it's a church. i walked around, but it was one of those mausoleums where everyone is in the walls. there was a guy sitting cross-legged in the grassy space in the middle, playing with a long leaf. that made me sad.
cemeteries are odd. whoever you're looking for, is not there. they're gone. we have memories, but that is it. that body in the ground is not them. we can choose to remember them wherever we want. i personally choose to remember my grandpa every time i see the credits roll at the movies. he was a driver for the movies. he liked to see the people he knew. the employees would be cleaning the theatres, and he'd still sit there.
but why remember someone's body? in a place with no memories? i guess i've never had anyone terribly close pass so i don't understand. it's the reason i can write so cavalier about this i suppose. the only memories are the emotional trauma of having to look at a body there.
at my grandfather's wake, i was without my parents for a few minutes. my aunt asked me to view my grandfather. that was the last thing i wanted. i'm sorry, parents did not raise me with religion. and grandpa had cancer.
a week prior, he called me by my cousin's name. his hands shook and he need help putting his necklace on my neck. i knew he was gone. i didn't need to see the body. standing on the little steps i lost it. i fell to my knees. my mom came over and i am pretty sure she was upset with my aunt for taking me up there.
yet there i was at the cemetery in 2012 looking for the grave of a man i had not seen in almost twenty years.
there was not one office in the mausoleum. so i drove around again. i couldn't find anything else that looked like an office. the non-catholic aka white people side (as my dad put it) had small directory type signs, so i looked for something like that, nothing. then i went online to look for their phone number.
the first result though was a website called "find a grave", so i just had to check this out. you enter a name, minimal information, the website tells you where someone is buried. there was a section number, a row number, even a specific ID number. organization! yes! i wrote this down. then i noticed a little spot in the corner where you can leave e-flowers. i tried to do this, but you have to be a "member". i'm in a car, no time for this.
eagerly i start driving around to find section 2n. i find no section numbers though. what the fuck. seriously?! what's the point of information at that level of detail with no markers?!
i try to call. guess what, the cemetery office is closed on sunday. sunday, a slow day for cemeteries? i don't believe it.
frustrated, i go back to intuition area, park, and start looking for the 7th row. nothing. and i realized, 7th from where? this could take all day. i noticed graves from the 1800s. i'm sorry william, but 1860? no one who remembers you is coming to visit. it's a little selfish to claim an entire spot of land for your rotting body until the rapture. and some of us know we aren't going to be in the rapture, so why bother?!
i gave up. i figured it was time to move onto the next big hunt of praying st. mary's still had the large tortillas for sale at 2pm. on my way out, i found an office. i drove up to see if maybe there was a directory, or someone happened to be there, but no. on my way out, i noticed a section number painted on a curb: 1n. huzzah! maybe i was close.
i continued driving around the cemetery staring at curbs. can you believe that no other curb had a section number painted on it? this was the last straw. i left, once again without seeing my grandfather's grave, fake flowers in the trunk.
the next morning my aunt and uncle told me they could have taken me there. apparently they go on memorial day. and i'm sure i could have called someone. it just felt so silly. i wasn't there to grieve because my loss was too great to bear, i just wanted to pay my respects. the thought of his gave sitting there, waiting for flowers, with no one coming to visit made me sad. made ME sad. but i knew driving out of holy hope that he would appreciate the effort. and probably laugh about the craziness of the whole situation; even if we were at a cemetery.