Consider the Space
Walk through a cemetery both in remembrance of the family, friends or even strangers who have gone before you and as a reminder that someday you will take your inevitable place with them, joining the ranks of the deceased.
Although the plot sizes may be uniform, there are various styles of grave markers. They range from minimalist, a rectangular piece of granite situated in such a way that the groundskeeper can pass over it with a lawn mower, to towering obelisks, drawing your attention towards the sky.
Some have been there so long that the exterior is weathered. The elements have compromised the inscription, making it difficult to read. Others are newer with the engraving still defined. Passing your hand over it, your fingers can differentiate each individual letter. You’ll see religious symbols glorifying a god or markings identifying a service to America. A few have squat, wrought iron fences along the perimeter, even though there’s no chance any neighboring souls will ever physically encroach on this plot of land.
Natural bouquets in store-bought vases or decorations are left by the tombstones. Over time, the ornaments become bleached by the sun. The fresh-cut flowers will wilt and decompose, like an analogy of the person they were for. Small tokens with hidden meanings are left behind as loved ones attempt to keep their family members connected to the physical world.
The four things all the markers have in common are a name, the date of birth, the date of death and a space (or hyphen) between the dates. Celebrating when a person was born and remembering when they died are important bookmarks. But the truly impactful area is the overlooked space separating the DOB and DOD. That unassuming blank area symbolizes the person’s life. Everything done and all the lives touched are hidden behind that space. The threads of experiences woven together to create the tapestry of the deceased’s life are summarized by a non-descript emptiness separating two specific dates.
Whoever knew that person is part of that barren surface. But who’s still alive that can recall the stories it holds? As acquaintances and generations fade away, memories will no longer be relived and shared with those who never knew this person. What impactful events in that person’s life are destined to be erased with time’s passage? What regrets were had? What opportunities were missed or plans never executed that could have added importance to that void? The smallest area on the tombstone represents the entirety of someone’s life. It will always occupy the same part on the marker but never outwardly reveal the complex story of the person it is a testimony to.
Cemeteries remind me not to substitute complacency for comfort. I strive to excel in my Comfort Zone. But I am aware my Comfort Zone is dynamic because it has and will continue changing over the years according to my needs, experiences or maturity. Not reexamining then redefining my Comfort Zone means it will become a Complacent Zone. Life is static in the Complacent Zone. Accepting complacency as the norm eliminates risk which increases the chance that I won’t even realize I’m slowly being smothered. I’ll end up neck deep, wallowing in Complacent Zone quicksand with no desire to free myself.
My plan is to be dynamic so that when I’m exiting this wild and precious life, I’ll be at peace knowing the gap on my tombstone between birth and death is not a wasted space.