Last week my dad and I went to Laurel Hill Cemetery. We thought we would be taking a "Heroes Killed in Action" tour to commemorate Veteran's Day, but when we got there we found out that we already missed the tour on Sunday! Ooops! We grabbed a map instead and decided to go on our own tour. The fall colors were beautiful. It felt more like we were walking through a historic sculpture garden instead of a cemetery.
It was amazing to see all of the old headstones and sepulchers. The oldest one we saw had a death date of 1786. Many sculptures were so worn that they were barely distinguishable, and much of the writing on headstones was washed away. It made me think about the people burried in the cemetery and the lives they must have lived so long ago. To us they're just a headstone with some writing on it, and the only proof of their existence are the few words written about them. When those words become illegible, the only thing remaining is a piece of smooth rock, essentially.
It sounds depressing, but it got me thinking. I don't want to waste time and money on something extravagant that's only going to be destroyed and forgotten over time. So, when I die, deep-etch my name in some granite and bury me under a big, beautiful tree. :)
Here are some more pictures.
General George Meade, Commander of the Union Army during the Civil War. I was surprised at how modest his family plot was.
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