Photography and text by Corey Amaro
Across the canal, from where I lived when I was growing up, was a cemetery. It was your average cemetery as cemeteries go. Except that it was divided, a highway ran right through it: Catholics are buried on one side and everybody else on the other.
I had a friend who lived next to the cemetery too. Instead of walking to one or the others house, we would meet at the halfway point, which happened to be on the "everybody else side" of the cemetery.
Some teenagers meet at a snack bar, some drive around in their cars to talk, others hang out at each others home. But my friend and I sat on top of the canal bank overlooking the cemetery. And once or twice with my brothers, we played hide and seek around the tombstones… (Until my mother find out that is.)
Do you know why I am confessing this bit of unimportant information? Well, the other day while walking around the cemetery in Carcassonne (where these photos were taken) I reminisced about my hanging out at the cemetery to French Husband.
Fortunately, we are already married. Because he stared at me as if I was a vampire or something. Just to whet his appetite of disgust I gave him a piercing kiss on his neck. As he rubbed his neck he looked at me like I was the strangest creature on earth… "I am just being funny." I offered His sweet reply, "I like your weirdness."
Do you know it is a faux pas to bring Mums to someone in France?
In France, on All Souls Day, the French take mums to the tombs of those they loved. The cemeteries across the country are covered with mums, that is another reason why we went to the cemetery the other day. To see the mums (that might sound morbid, but the cemeteries come alive, that sounds strange too… I better stop…)
Anyway never give mums to a living person in France, is considered taboo.
While at the cemetery we thought of those who we love that have died especially, French Husband's father (He died when Chelsea was three months old.), his sister who died suddenly several years ago and my father.
French Husband and I have asked each other about death… I use to think I wanted to be cremated and have my ashes placed in Willows, France, Westport… but while in Willows I felt a gentle comfort being able to go to my father's grave. French Husband agreed.
This is probably too strong of a topic for a Monday morning…. but that is what happens when I first come back from being home in Willows. My heart, mind, and soul seem to over-feel, over-think, and over-wonder. Jet lag doesn't help.
And so I will leave this post as is…
Reminiscing about things of the past that have shaped my days, recalling younger years where I did silly things that made me a tad weird, and of course very, very happy that today is another day waiting for me to soak up and pack in my bag of tricks to carry into tomorrow.
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