My grandfather doesn't live there
I drove down to Riverton to see my grandfather today. Chester Harris Asay died on June 9, 2003, and is buried 25 minutes from my house in the Camp Williams cemetery for military veterans.
As I leaned over his grave, it seemed so clear that my fun and often funny grandfather was at least a billion miles away. He wasn't lying, crumpled and crumbling in this grave. My grandfather still lives.
It's such a ridiculous thought to conceive of life simply ending because our body gives up. My grandfather's spirit certainly never did.
Some day I'll get to meet him again. I expect he'll laugh that I bothered to put flowers on his grave, though I'm sure he appreciated the gesture. He would almost certainly have preferred a little radio tuned to KSL so that he could listen to all the BYU games.
But then, I expect he has better things to do now. I'm not sure exactly what he's up to, but I know his life is far richer than sitting on a hill, overlooking a freeway. My grandfather never spent much time sitting around in life. Why would he do so in death?
3 comments:
I am so glad you went, Matt. I thought about going and then all of the stupid little pointless things in life took over (running, grocery shopping, etc.). I am so glad someone had enough sense to visit him yesterday!
I went with grandma last year and it was so peaceful out there. That cemetary is so beautiful. Thanks for going and visiting. I am sure he appreciates it.
As you might imagine, it wasn't me that thought of going. It was Jen. She motivated me to go and...I'm glad I went. I wouldn't say it was peaceful (too many screaming kids jumping on various graves), but I felt close to Grandpa.
Yes, thanks for going Matt and for the picture. I think of my dad a lot down here and wish I had more pictures. But I have a lot of memories and am glad that my kids do too. It is interesting how often I feel his closeness.
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