Diary Numbers
folder
Original - Misc › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
4
Views:
1,533
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
4
Views:
1,533
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This story is fiction. Any relation to any person is purely coincidental. I own this story/narrative.
100529
Yet another one. This one was written after a trip to a cemetery, so the names and dates are real. I didn't make them up and are giving credit where credit is due.
Warnings: not much, mentions of death (of course) but nothing too bad.
~100529~ (2010, May 29)
That person only lived nine years.
Clare V. Barber. 1909-1918.
I'm not sure why but that shocked me. Scared me even. Nine years old and then she died. God...
How did she die? Why so young?
I feel sad for her. To be so young. And to have no one remember you. I don't even know if someone remembers her.
Remembers what she looked like. How she acted. What her voice sounded like. What color her hair and eyes were. What she liked to do for fun. Who her family was. Who her frieds were.
How she died.
All we have is a name, birth and death year. Nothing else. No family relations. Nothing.
It's sad.
And then to add insult to injury, the gravestone two down was from 1872-1972.
Vera May Barber.
Mother? Older sister? Grandmother? Aunt?
Who knows? Who cares anymore?
I find myself caring. And I don't know why.
I want to be a grave keeper. Keeper of the dead. Keeper of memories. So these people will always have someone to remember them. Even after a hundred years.
I'll keep a biography of all the people buried in my cemetery. So people will remember them. Even if it's just on paper.
At least it's something.
And I'll visit their graves. Talk to them. Say their names out loud.
Maybe that's all the dead want: to be remembered by their loved ones. All the time, not just on special days.
That's it. That's all.
Maybe they'd settel for being remembered by the person keeping their graves.
Because who wants to be forgotten? Sure there are some people. But I'm sure most of mankind doesn't want to be forgotten when they die.
Maybe that's why cemeteries are such sad and lonely places. Not only because it is a place of death but also of forgetfulness.
I'm sure being forgotten is a part of why people are so afraid of dying. To be forgotten is basically the same as not existing.
No matter what some people say: everyone wants to exist, no one wants to be forgotten.
Why do you think so many people try to make it big? Try to be heroes? Being a hero is to be immortalized forever.
So I want to make sure EVERYONE is immortalized. Even after they're dead.
What better time?
The funny thing is, after I wrote this and posted somewhere else, I went back to the cemetery with family and went to Clare and Vera's graves and someone and brought them flowers. I don't know if that happened because I called attention to them or if it was just some family member remembering. It's kind of selfish of me to hope for the first option, isn't it?
Again, names and dates are real, not fiction.
Review or not.
Warnings: not much, mentions of death (of course) but nothing too bad.
~100529~ (2010, May 29)
That person only lived nine years.
Clare V. Barber. 1909-1918.
I'm not sure why but that shocked me. Scared me even. Nine years old and then she died. God...
How did she die? Why so young?
I feel sad for her. To be so young. And to have no one remember you. I don't even know if someone remembers her.
Remembers what she looked like. How she acted. What her voice sounded like. What color her hair and eyes were. What she liked to do for fun. Who her family was. Who her frieds were.
How she died.
All we have is a name, birth and death year. Nothing else. No family relations. Nothing.
It's sad.
And then to add insult to injury, the gravestone two down was from 1872-1972.
Vera May Barber.
Mother? Older sister? Grandmother? Aunt?
Who knows? Who cares anymore?
I find myself caring. And I don't know why.
I want to be a grave keeper. Keeper of the dead. Keeper of memories. So these people will always have someone to remember them. Even after a hundred years.
I'll keep a biography of all the people buried in my cemetery. So people will remember them. Even if it's just on paper.
At least it's something.
And I'll visit their graves. Talk to them. Say their names out loud.
Maybe that's all the dead want: to be remembered by their loved ones. All the time, not just on special days.
That's it. That's all.
Maybe they'd settel for being remembered by the person keeping their graves.
Because who wants to be forgotten? Sure there are some people. But I'm sure most of mankind doesn't want to be forgotten when they die.
Maybe that's why cemeteries are such sad and lonely places. Not only because it is a place of death but also of forgetfulness.
I'm sure being forgotten is a part of why people are so afraid of dying. To be forgotten is basically the same as not existing.
No matter what some people say: everyone wants to exist, no one wants to be forgotten.
Why do you think so many people try to make it big? Try to be heroes? Being a hero is to be immortalized forever.
So I want to make sure EVERYONE is immortalized. Even after they're dead.
What better time?
The funny thing is, after I wrote this and posted somewhere else, I went back to the cemetery with family and went to Clare and Vera's graves and someone and brought them flowers. I don't know if that happened because I called attention to them or if it was just some family member remembering. It's kind of selfish of me to hope for the first option, isn't it?
Again, names and dates are real, not fiction.
Review or not.