Cemetery Seekers

(A part of a short story collection of mine titled Ambiance. This is simply one of many that I wanted to share with the growing views of this blog.)

gravescaper@launchpad.com

<19 September 2007>

aaaaah junior yeaaaaar – all the work’s going to cut into my cemetery-time for sure… ugh. but hey on the bright side you’re finally getting skype so i'll finally get to see that ugly face of yours (don’t deny it, that’s your only viable excuse for avoiding video chat for all this time).

god, who knows if i've been talking about graves to a serial killer for three years.

oh and btw i lost that email with your address. are you serious about this pen pal thing? it just sounds like a crapload of work to me.

tm_wake@vmail.org

<September 20, 2007>

First of all, I’ll say this now: if you complain about your workload while I’m working on my extended essay, I will hunt you down in that frozen wasteland you call a country just to punch you in the face.

Cemetery Seekers

December 22^nd, 2010

It’s gotten cold. Makes sense, since it’s winter and all, but it’s even colder here than it is back at home. Probably isn’t as cold as where you are, though. How you survive so far up north, I’ll never know. And before you start, I don’t want to know. I like my temperate climate just fine.

Still, I guess a change in environment isn’t too bad once in a while. Even though the winter here is so dry and frigid, even though they’re all wearing mantles of snow, the trees here are still green. That’s why they call them ‘evergreens’, I suppose. The forest is astoundingly dense, as if they’re all huddling together to brace against the wind like penguins. If you’re laughing, shut up and let me attempt to be poetic for just three damn minutes.

Here, it’s different from the cemetery back home.

The tombstones back in the city had a lifeless feeling to them – spiritual for sure, but still, lifeless. There’s no other way to put it. I’m sure you understand. But here, when you’re there, you feel surrounded by peace. There’s no distant engine rumbling or cell phones ringing. Like there should be, there’s a sacred sort of silence, and it’s almost like being enveloped by the spirits resting there. I thought I saw one, but it was just the sunlight glowing on the snow.

I saw a few fresh flowers, pricy bouquets placed beside a couple specific trees. I saw a sapling there too. It belonged to a girl called Emma who died young. Her family made a good decision coming to this place, I’d say. By burying her ashes with the tree, she’ll be able to grow up and live on to maturity. I think that’s a gentle, tender sentiment.

Which is why that goddamn drunk was an eyesore.

Get this, he wandered into the cemetery with a hacksaw – all that holiday spirit must have gone straight to his head and shut off his brain – and he shouted until he was bright red in the face about getting the biggest Christmas tree in the world or something like that. Honestly, he wasn’t just drunk, he was downright wasted – his path in the snow looked like Kandinsky met Pollock at a speakeasy gone wrong, with the footprints and the eggnog left strewn about the snow.

It just made me so angry that I just waltzed right up to him, and I reiterate, he was a drunkard with a hacksaw, and told him to leave. I called him an old drunk and told him he wouldn’t want one of these trees anyway.  He kept jabbering on and on about how these were the biggest conifers in the state or something, and he just wouldn’t shut up, so I snapped.

I pointed to the sign at the side and told him that the only reason the trees were so big was because the souls of beloved people slept inside them. God, his reaction makes me mad – you’d think I had just taught him witchcraft in the heart of Salem or something. He edged away from the forest at first, then took off screaming like some B-rate horror flick.

It pisses me off that people just seem to go out of their way to disturb the peace like that. Where do they get off, treating the cemeteries like – damn, lost my train of thought. But basically, if they don’t run off screaming from nurseries, they’ve got no right to run off screaming from cemeteries. It’s the same sort of place, a resting place, for the other end of the lifeline.

Anyway, now that the rant’s out of my system, I’ve mailed your Christmas present to your fiancée since you’ve gone off travelling without a word again. At least tell people where you’re going so we don’t have to play Where’s Waldo with Google Maps – or at the very least, tell your girlfriend when you’re about to take off. That’s one understanding wife-to-be you’ve got there. She deserves the wedding of the century.

But I guess that’s enough of the pot calling the kettle black. Took off without a word myself and left the roommate to deal with the university absence, after all… but I can deal with the repercussions later. I finally got to see a living cemetery, and it was beautiful. I don’t regret it a bit.

I’ve included a few sketches for your benefit. They’re in the same envelope, so the stupid international mailing system can’t have lost them this time.

3-I-2010

Upon evaluation of both your writing and art submission, it is my esteemed and completely educated opinion that yousuckatpoetryandit’sagoodthingyouchoseart, haha.

Trees like a flock of penguins, lol – but like always, your sketches are amazing. Man, now I really want to see your drawing of the tomb you told me about. I swear, the mail loses the most important things. See, this is why I said we should stick to email, so much more reliable!

But in any case, the thing with the drunk, all I was thinking was really “pff, that is so like him”, worrying about the ‘sanctity of the dead’ before your own safety.  I think you let him off too easy though – I probably would’ve slugged him once. Though I probably shouldn’t. This is where it becomes evident that you’re the smart one in this relationship.

And before I forget, Happy New Year!                                                                       

I’m going to just go ahead and guess that you didn’t get that car you wanted. See, this is why you have to be more practical with your expectations. Yes, this is going where you think it’s going. Yes, I got that new Mac I wanted. Yes, I am rubbing salt in your wounds and relishing it.

It runs so smooth and the battery lasts forever – the one thing that kinda ticks me off is that I forgot to save our chatroom archives before formatting my old laptop and pawning it off. There were some pretty interesting stories in there and that whole list of cemeteries we wanted to see (and a few Freudian slips I could’ve held against you for the rest of your life)…

But anyway, speaking of gifts, dude. What kind of gift is an iTunes giftcard. Come on, that’s as bad as sending money! Where’s the thoughtfulness? Where’s the consideration? Where’s the “aw, shucks, my friend knows me so well, it’s like we have telepathy, I’m lucky to know such a great guy” feeling that I’m entitled to?

Wow shucks doesn’t look like a word when you handwrite it like that. Shucks. shucks. SHUCKS. Hmm, anyway, what I mean is, put a little more effort into your Christmas shopping – you’ll never get a girlfriend like that.

Look what I got you. Look at it. That there is a quality gift, alright, delivered straight from the heart of the Fujian Province of China – and speaking of China, man, I wish you had been there. Remember one of the things on our ‘top thirty’ list? The hanging cemetery? It was amazing, I mean it. Now imagine, and I mean it, close your eyes and imagine.

There are ships sailing to the heavens, harboring gentle souls. They float above you, shadows against the sky. The violet night recedes, tinged with sun above the mountain peaks, and a stray beam of light cuts through the dark quicker, a beacon for the souls of the resting. It guides the ships in their passage to a world higher than and beyond our own.

Aside from the ships, so worn from the wind, are coffins of more recent times. They cling to the cliffs so far above that you remember what you’ve read in the past about them. The loved ones of the deceased would carry the corpse, and set them to rest high above the world. The journey into the high mountains would demonstrate the love and respect the living still held for the lost.

They set their beloved to sleep in the sky, as close as they can to the God of Heaven and as far as they can from the world down below. This way, the weary soul can rest, unbidden and unhindered by earthly discontent.

And if they so choose, the sleeping souls

Can rise and peer down from their ships to see.

They watch over their loved ones as time marches on

And protect them from above.

~*~*~

January 30^th, 2010

I tried to look at what you got me, but I met difficulty in the fact that I never received it. It must have gotten lost in the goddamn mail again. I also tried to close my eyes and imagine what you saw, but I needed them open to read? I’ve said it before and I say it again, I think you might want to rethink a career path in writing.

In case it was unclear, those words were said with amusement, not malice. Your description of the cemetery really makes me wish I had the funds to fly to China at the drop of a hat like you did, but I guess I’ll have to wait. Worst thing is that you probably couldn’t do it justice and it still sounded amazing.

Anyway, you’ve piqued my curiosity. Tell me what the gift was.

Also, university is starting up again, so letters might take longer to write on my end. Not sure about yours, but email me if there’s something urgent to talk about.

~*~*~

gravescaper@launchpad.com

<14 February 2011>

How the f*ck does the mail system lose 3/5 packages ever sent?!

Come on that was a REALLY GOOD PRESENT!

It was a little stone stamp with your name on it spelled out with Chinese characters and some old lady at the Wuyi mountain range made it in front of me so it was one of a kind!!

tm_wake@vmail.org

<February 16, 2011>

I hope you actually spent the day doing something nice with your fiancée instead of just writing a rant to the grave enthusiast that lives halfway across the world.

I said to email if it’s urgent.

gravescaper@launchpad.com

<17 February 2011>

IT WAS URGENT.

~*~*~

March 10^th, 2011

Writing this letter early in hopes that I’ve actually calculated the damn shipping time properly this time and your present will actually get to you on your birthday. And they aren’t iTunes gift cards this time, but I’ve got no taste, so if you don’t like it, too bad. You brought it on yourself.

No birthday card, so accept this hastily sketched party hat and piñata on the corner of this paper instead.

15-III-2011

Sooooooooo close, but it came a day late.

And yeah, the gift kind of sucks, but I’ll wear it anyway, LOL.

The wife-to-be likes it and it’s better than iTunes giftcards, at least. Here, check in the envelope, I printed something out for you.

Also, here’s a hint for next time: a present doesn’t have to be bought.

~*~*~

tm_wake@vmail.org

<March 20, 2011>

You are an ass.

gravescaper@launchpad.com

<21 March 2011>

LOL

~*~*~

tm_wake@vmail.org

<April 1, 2011>

Exams; I might not be able to talk for a few months.

gravescaper@launchpad.com

<2 April 2011>

A’ight.

~*~*~

tm_wake@vmail.org

<May 16, 2011>

Still in the throes of the dreaded exam season, but I found the archives from our old chatroom so I thought I’d send them to you. I still can’t believe we called ourselves the ‘cemetery seekers’… god, teenage years are just...

  cemetery-seekers-log-06104

gravescaper@launchpad.com

<18 May 2011>

Awesome, thanks!

And come on, admit it, the name was great. The sibilance has a nice ring to it – why’d we ever stop using it? I think we should start using it again. What say you, my fellow cemetery seeker?

tm_wake@vmail.org

<May 18, 2011>

I say: shut up, I have an exam to study for.

gravescaper@launchpad.com

<19 May 2011>

LOL

~*~*~

12-VIII-2011

Shhhh – if you look carefully, you’ll notice that this is written on a napkin instead of paper, so don’t tell my girlfriend I’m writing a letter during our date. I am writing because I have to brag. I can’t wait until I get home, that’ll take too long. I plan to just dump this napkin in a post box with a stamp on it on the way back, so anyway.

Guess who’s going to Zentralfriedhof.

tm_wake@vmail.org

<August 17, 2011>

I utterly despise you.
You’re dating her because she funds your cemetery trips, aren’t you.

gravescaper@launchpad.com

<19 August 2011>

(Shhh, don’t let her know.) Haha, kidding – more like she’s visiting her new niece and I get to tag along and the cemetery is a total detour that she’s willing to make because she’s fantastic.

In any case, I’ll send you a souvenir and sucks to be you~

tm_wake@vmail.org

<August 23, 2011>

No worries. Now there’s nothing holding me back from telling you that I’m going on tour all along the east coast next year. Mt. Auburn. Greenwood. Woodlawn.

Sucks to be you.

gravescaper@launchpad.com

<25 August 2011>

I hate you.

tm_wake@vmail.org

<August 26, 2011>

Mutual.

[gotta add another year here, bleh]

~*~*~

August 30^th, 2012

Finally got to visit Woodlawn. It was better than I expected, and there’s no doubt that it’s a classic. There were lines upon lines of gravestones, each the same shade of slate, and there was something almost perfect in its uniformity, and then every now and then there are the statues or the tombs, jutting up above the landscape.

… In the end, I’m no wordsmith, so I’m sending a sketch instead. Yeah, it’s a photocopy. I liked how this one turned out so no way I’m risking losing the original copy. So there you have it.

~*~*~

16-III-2013

Hey, dude. I guess I should say sorry ‘bout the lack of letters… Things were pretty hectic recently, what with grad school and the wedding prep and everything. Oh, I guess I didn’t tell you yet – I’m a married man now, haha. Yeah, I know. I still barely believe it myself.

And I know we agreed that meeting face to face when we live in opposite hemispheres is a bad idea on our budgets, but I’m sorry I didn’t invite you to the big day. You know I would’ve totally made you best man if I could. It’s just, well, like I said, I got busy. Things got pretty intense.

You know what else is funny? Everything that happened probably means I won’t be doing too much more travelling while I’m alive anymore, haha. At least, not for a while – have to spend time with the wife, you know?

Man, what a waste of youth… I still haven’t seen the Valley of Kings, the Pere-Lachaise, St. Peter’s Basilica, the Bridge to Paradise, the Prague, the Merry Cemetery or anything yet. Worst of all, I haven’t met you in person yet! And we’ve skype-chatted what, 8 times in 5 years?

We’ve known each other for almost a decade now… huh. Guess it’s been a while now, haha. Didn’t notice time go by. Never would have thought two kids in a chatroom would come this far, and I certainly didn’t think I’d end up trusting words a name on a screen this much, haha…

… So hey, this is just a question, kinda out of the blue, but do you mind if I send you something a little weird? Something the Mrs. won't be too happy about me giving you?

Don’t worry. She understands. You’re right, she’s too good for me.

But anyway, gimme an answer ASAP, okay?

Also, I know it’s kinda useless now, but here’s your copy of the wedding invitation. I had it printed and everything, but… well, I guess I just missed my chance. The in-laws didn’t approve of Novodevichy for the wedding site, so you didn’t miss anything spectacular, haha. Still, would’ve been nice if you were here for the support and all.

Now it sounds like I’m trying to guilt you and I’m not quite sure what I’m writing anymore? So I guess this letter’s reached its end.

~*~*~

March 23^rd, 2013

As if I’m not used to weird from you.

It’s fine. Send it over, whatever it is, as long as it isn’t alive.

And thanks for the invite, however late. Give my regards to your new family, and congratulations. You know, I’ve been waiting to hear news on this for a while now. I’m mailing you the wedding present that’s taken god knows how long. It’s been sitting on the easel gathering dust since it took you so damn long to exchange rings.

Hope it reaches you safely, and if it doesn’t, I have pictures of it, so ask.

~*~*~

April 18^th, 2013

Hey, is something wrong?

Did you not like the wedding gift or something? That’s pretty cold – I worked hard on that, haha… How do you always write that over and over? “Haha” looks so weird handwritten in a letter and it just looks sarcastic or unnatural when I do it… never mind.  

And what happened to that ‘something a little weird’ anyway? Did you send the thing?

I never got it.

~*~*~

tm_wake@vmail.org

<August 23, 2013>

I was giving you the benefit of the doubt and thinking you just got busy, but is everything alright? I sent about eight letters. The mail people couldn’t have lost all of them.

I scoured the past exchanges looking for something I might have done wrong, but there’s absolutely nothing, and I’m not saying this to be an ass. I literally cannot find something that might have offended you, so why don’t you give it to me straight instead of this cagey not-answering-letters bullshit.

~*~*~

tm_wake@vmail.org

<March 14, 2014>

It just didn’t feel right not writing a birthday card around this time of year. I realized that too late to write a card, so I’m just writing an email instead.

Happy Birthday.

mailer-service@vmail.org

<March 14, 2014>

Delivery to the following recipient failed permanently:

grave_scaper@launchpad.com

Technical details of permanent failure:

The email account that you tried to reach does not exist. Please try double-checking the recipient’s email at http://service.vmail.org/support/bin/answer.p?answer=6245

~*~*~

5.V.2014

Hey, dude! Sorry about the wait. No, don’t freak out, ignore the different handwriting. This is your fellow grave enthusiast / cemetery seeker, have no fear. I’m just a little tired right now, so the wife’s taken over the writing bit for me, haha.

See? Told you we should’ve stuck with email. Then I could’ve just lied in bed and talked out loud or something – then again, that’s actually what I’m doing right now. Haha, I guess that was kind of a waste of ink and breath. Sorry. I’m just kind of spilling my thoughts out here because it’s just… hard to approach this.

Well, for starters, I got the letters you sent. The wedding gift too. Best work you’ve shown me yet, and I’m not being biased here. I mean it. Which, you know, is kind of hard for me, so take it as a high compliment, haha… man, I feel terrible. I wish I could have sent you a thank you letter sooner or at least an email or something but... well, obviously, I never got around to it. Anyways, I should stop beating around the bush.

By the time you read this letter, I’m dead.

Yeah, I know. Shocker, right?

Didn’t see that one coming.

I don’t kno(I’m sorry for the blurred words. My husband’s handed me a tissue now, so I’ll be alright.) So, uh, now that we’ve got tissues at hand and some non-water-soluble ink, we’re good, right?

So, well, I guess that I should explain. Come clean and all that. Yeah. See, about that last letter I sent, when I said I was busy with the wedding preparations… that was a lie. There was no wedding, really. We just signed a document and turned it into the city because, well, we couldn’t handle much more than that.

 No, I couldn’t handle much more than that, because the truth is, around the time you got to visit Woodlawn, I discovered I had stomach cancer. Doctors said it was beyond malignant, and chances of recovery were slim. It was… god, it was hard. When I stopped replying to your letters the first time, I was undergoing treatment at a hospital, and let me tell you, chemotherapy makes you weak.

I could read, but I just didn’t have the brainpower or the bodypower to write. It was horrible. Even more so than the pain from cancer, it hurt knowing how useless I’d become and how the only cemetery I probably had to look forward to from then on was… my own.

God, that was almost funny.

You know, they tried to get me to choose my own cemetery? I mean, the people around me who knew my interests. They thought that I’d like to choose or something like that, but that just made everything worse. I’d never see another cemetery again. I’d never see another burial site, or another sleeping hall for weary souls. That list we made when we were brats – I’d never get to visit any of those with you. And it sucked. That hurt more than the fucking cancer or the therapy or anything else, and that’s why I asked you if I could send you something a little weird.

Inside the envelope, there should be a ring with a green diamond in it. Yeah. That’s me. Or, to be more specific, that diamond is made from the ashes of my cremated bones. If the diamond isn’t green, then that damn company got my order wrong and my family is entitled to a refund, haha… but yeah.

I told you it was a little weird.

And, well, you said it was okay as long as it wasn’t alive, so, well, I… I’m sorry. You finding out this way, I mean. It must suck. And sending you my remains in the mail has got to be the creepiest fucking thing anyone has ever done, and I swear to god if they lose this in the mail and you never get it… if they send that damn ring to some old woman in Kentucky or something by accident or if I just get lost in the mail… no. I don’t want to think about that.

You’ll get this letter. I know you will. They never lost any of the important ones before, right?

I know.

I know it’s weird. My wife and my parents and everyone thinks it’s stupid that I’m mailing my ashes to someone across the world that I never even met in person, but it was either that or be stuck with one resting place for the rest of my life. I just thought… why stick with one, when I could see one hundred?

Even if any of them had this ring, it’s not like they know how I feel. My wife said she’d travel the world for me, see them all, but I couldn’t do that to her. It’s different for her. She’d be doing it for my sake and I’d be leeching off her time, and I don’t want that. I can’t do that to her. So, in the end, the only one who came to mind was you.

So what do you say, fellow cemetery seeker?

Do you mind if I tag along with you?

Seeking Cemeteries

They are sites where people dream

Where those unseen lay at rest, in peace

Be it in air or earth, at ease, they sleep on

I seek these sites, with spirits light

When the nights are long or days are late

The dates upon the stones remind me

See, life is worth living after all

After the falls, there are crests, and

At the other end of the bumpy lifeline you

Will find that there is peace in death

And a dearth of things that plague you

I seek cemeteries because where people see

The gloom and doom and fear, I say

That they are sacred and beautiful.