Not sure why, but when things get hard, really really hard, I go here. The cemetery. Jordan was buried here 8 years ago. I wouldn’t say I ‘feel’ him here so I’m not sure why this is where I run. Its peaceful, quiet & soothing. After he first passed I would spend almost every night out here. A few times I feel asleep, crying for him. Willing to give anything to have him back. Today was a very hard day. Flooded with emotions & tears. Mostly because I miss him & his loyalty. His friendship & his love. His security. Feeling broken, leaving my heart buried.
Locked. Guarded. Secure.
I’ve never noticed this place. I think its funny how we notice things only when were ready. I’ve driven by here countless times, apparently not ready until now to see such beauty. As I walked up the lane I had a sense of violation. Not because it was illegal to be there but I felt as if I was violating privacy of someone. An odd feeling I’ve never experienced in a cemetery.
Graveyards are interesting places. Of course they can be full of stories and myths, and inspiration for stories and myths. Countless people have talked and written about them in countless ways. They always work nicely for photos too. As I drove to Danville, I remembered there was a graveyard that I had been wanting to shoot for some time. So I stopped by and shot there for a while as the sun slowly descended behind me. While I was there I only thought about the photos I was trying to get. But as I write this I start to think about the actual graveyard. All the headstones, trying to hold memories of the people that are buried beneath them. Each stone, carved with a name, trying to hold the memory of that person here on Earth. Trying desperately to not allow them to be forgotten. But how many of those people are forgotten? Think of all the people that have lived and died. Eventually they will be forgotten. No one will remember them. All that’s left is a name and date. And even the stone is temporary. They only prolong the inevitable oblivion. Here are two stones, two monuments. Old. The names worn off. No one to remember the two buried beneath.
Today was a busy day. Went to the bank, got a haircut, went to one of my jobs, went to my other job and when I finally got off at ten I made my way to Danville to see Hannah. On the way out there I noticed how cool the full moon and clouds looked. So I kept stopping to get shots. And then, only a few miles away from Hannah’s house, I was driving down a very dark country road, I failed to see a sharp curve in the road and my poor little Honda ended up buried in mud, 20 yards out in a cornfield. Two hours later, after Hannah’s dad, Josh, and I dug, pushed and pulled, we got it out of the field. It was quite a night and one I won’t forget. Despite all the trouble and feeling like a complete idiot, I’d still have to say it was worth it.I got some great shots and had some fun. The shot above was taken before it ended up in the field.