The Weight of Dates and Dashes 5/18/2025

By: Jennifer Richardson Holt

I have long had a fascination with cemeteries.   I have actually written here about this before. I have talked about how this is an inherited trait since my parents share this interest.  I think once you understand our reasoning for doing so it won’t come across as quite so macabre of an interest.  I actually had to, in writing this, ask my mother for the reasons that they enjoyed going to look at cemeteries and was educated that my father didn’t actually enjoy it but just went along because my mom did. This was a new development for me. So, it’s still an inherited trait just not from both sides. I also learned that my mother’s reasons were the same as my own.  We love to see the stories that the graves tell, and there are many. For us, it isn’t at all about death or dying though obviously that is the common thread woven into the experience of walking amongst the headstones, but it is about the lives that they represent. It is the dashes between the two numbers and the little added flourishes that tell the truly fascinating tales.

There were several factors that got me thinking about life and death as of late. It started with something else I have written about before. Near my home there is a civil war historical site.  There are actually several, but this one is very close and unique in that it is nothing more than beautiful fields and a plaque marking the spot. There is not really a trace of the conscription camp, hospital and cemetery that were there.  Only rolling hills dotted with oaks and pecans.  Fortunately, the current owners of this land have found two headstones, have the proper connections to the local university and now a full-on archeological excavation is beginning to really try to do this place justice. It is beautiful as it is, but its treasured memories are in the imagination only and if something more could be found I feel it would be a fitting tribute to mothers’ children that lay invisible beneath the soil.  Their lives are known only to history buffs like me and their families long since gone.  I am pleased that work is being done to tell their stories.

There were several deaths in the families of friends that seem to raise the same ideas in my mind. Some were sick and elderly and were aches that the heart knew was coming. Others were sudden, unexpected. These events caused me to ponder the walks through the headstones and their tales they tell. All of these new subtractions from this mortal coil will have their place marked be it in a cemetery or some other type of memorial, even if it be in an urn, it will be a reminder of a story.  I suppose the thing I have most considered as I think of these is the realization that, despite there being a final date for all of these lives, that not a single one of those dates is actually the end of the marks they make.

We call it the end of life. We call it the finish.  But really, it isn’t. Of course, if it is someone we knew and even more so if it was someone we loved, then their impact is never truly finished. In the most basic sense, a person’s absence leaves a hole. It sounds morbid and, in a way, yes, it is. However, a part of your life being gone changes you. Things must be morphed and reworked with someone missing. If you have a room filled with furniture and suddenly one of those pieces is no longer there, then the room must be reorganized. Perhaps another piece can serve a similar purpose, but it won’t be the exact same one. And that is only the most elementary sense of how lives don’t end because the lives of those involved are permanently changed. So simply one soul, not being present leaves an indefinite effect.

Then of course, what a person leaves behind that continues other than their absence is all the ways they change other people. I can remember a kind word a total stranger said to me in passing from decades ago. That stuck with me. That person marked me, and I am certain they had no idea. That is the funny thing about influence, you very often have no clue about how much you have on others.  I have heard people who have completely changed the lives of others for the better and they think they have no real significance. Each person on this planet makes such a mark in so many lives. There are small ways like, perhaps someone may use a certain word or phrase because they heard someone else use it. That is the type of thing that could trickle down through generations simply because of a little thing one person did years ago. That keeps that person alive in the sway that it has on others.

And if the little things can travel through families for years, imagine what the big things can do. A person’s kindness or example of integrity can change the course of how countless others live their lives.  A truly great person has a life that not only outlives the second date on their headstone, but it can even grow in impact after it. We are famous for not realizing what we have until it’s gone and the people in our lives are no exception.  But as I was thinking about how even those no longer with us continue to live on in their effects upon us, it occurred to me that if I realize this then I need to take full advantage of it. I need to value those around me while I have them. Even the little things are things to be treasured in the moment because one day they will only be fond memories.  While I love walking through a cemetery to see the stories that lie there, what I really need to do is to revel in all these stories of the people in my life now, before they are told to me amongst flowers and marble stones.