Yeah, so I like cemeteries.  I admit it. 

“Hello, my name is Sheila, and I am a Taphophile”

I wonder if this is where, when I walk through the cemetery gates everyone yells “Sheila!” like in Cheers.   Hmmmmm, I hope not, considering most people in the cemetery are pretty much dead. 

The kids and I went out ‘cemetery hopping’ yesterday.  We visited my grandmothers’ ancestors and all their ‘new neighbors’.  Anyhow, something about poking around in cemeteries exhilarates me.  It all started when I did the family genealogy for Shane’s side and started mine.  Then I was hooked.  I have far too many pics of my kids as toddlers posing with headstones.  Yeah, I know, strange.  frickin creepy.

There’s just something about visiting those once forgotten.  To wonder about their lives and who they were.  We always make a point to stop and visit the graves of the little ones.  The babies.  Every cemetery has a slew of children who died in 1917/18 from influenza.  I imagine the pain of the young mothers who lost their child.  In some cases, children.  It always chokes me up.   (continue to pics ~

These are but a few of the baby graves.  I wonder what the name for these hollowed out stones are?  You can see some of them still have religious figurines intact inside them, the rest have been stolen from their stones. 

Here’s an old headstone that used to be a large cross. 
This one also caught our eye because her name looks like ‘marijuanna’. 

 

The pic on the left is a Tree of Life or Tree of Faith gravestone, which usually comes from the Woodsmen of The World (a fraternal order)

Here’s an older section of the cemetery.  Enlarge the photo, the large (tall) monument on the right has a spooky face looking thing on the side.  It’s just the weathering from the 100 years it’s been there, but it does look a little spooky.

This one is just a beautiful large monument.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                      Here’s an old, large, Polish monument. 

So yeah, there are a lot of sights to see at the cemetery.  A lot of history and untold stories.  Many forgotten and many remembered.  I wonder if this stone (made of cement, decorated with simple stones) is from a poor family.   How awful to have to bury two young children at the same time. 

 

 

Or the family of this young soldier.  Killed in service to his country.  Sad, sad stories.


“But then some day we could take our time 
To brush the leaves aside so you can reach us 
But you left me far behind ”  ~ lyrics in “Far Behind’ (Candlebox)

 

 

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