My interest in cemeteries began when I was in high school. At that time, a cemetery was a place to sneak into at night for a good scare. But then I began to take notice of unusual gravestones, especially those with inscriptions.

One haunting inscription that I've always remembered goes like this: "As You Are Now, So Once Was I. As I Am Now, You Once Will Be."

Each time I stood at a grave, I found myself wondering about who the person was whose final resting place was beneath the ground on which I stood. Each time an inscription gave a small detail about who that person had been, such as husband and father or mother and wife, I always thought about the spouse or the children that would have cried as they stood at the same spot where I later stood.

Whenever I stand at a grave, that invisible thread that connects us in our humanity deeply touches me . It matters not if the person buried there is someone I have never known. I know them as fellow humans who remind me of how fragile life is and how it is our memory that lives on in the hearts of others.

And when those who remember and love us pass on, there will be others who will come upon a long forgotten grave. Perhaps as I do, they too will stand in reverence of the life that has past and may possibly leave a flower, a prayer or just provide a moment of companionship to the dead.

May they all be at peace.

My interest in cemeteries began when I was in high school. At that time, a cemetery was a place to sneak into at night for a good scare. But then I began to take notice of unusual gravestones, especially those with inscriptions.

One haunting inscription that I've always remembered goes like this: "As You Are Now, So Once Was I. As I Am Now, You Once Will Be."

Each time I stood at a grave, I found myself wondering about who the person was whose final resting place was beneath the ground on which I stood. Each time an inscription gave a small detail about who that person had been, such as husband and father or mother and wife, I always thought about the spouse or the children that would have cried as they stood at the same spot where I later stood.

Whenever I stand at a grave, that invisible thread that connects us in our humanity deeply touches me . It matters not if the person buried there is someone I have never known. I know them as fellow humans who remind me of how fragile life is and how it is our memory that lives on in the hearts of others.

And when those who remember and love us pass on, there will be others who will come upon a long forgotten grave. Perhaps as I do, they too will stand in reverence of the life that has past and may possibly leave a flower, a prayer or just provide a moment of companionship to the dead.

May they all be at peace.