Those who know me know I'm skittish about death. Not death per se but, about seeing or being anywhere close to the shell of a person after they've gone to glory. But on the flip side I have a fascination with cemeteries. Names, dates, who they are. I get certain feelings and inspiration about people and what lives they lived. Sometimes I can hear their voices speaking to me from the dust. It's like a moth to the flame really because sometimes I have trouble sleeping if its been a particularly spiritual experience where the veil has become so thin I can hear their voice.
Wednesday Elle and I took a trip up to Preston, Idaho to visit the resting place of a friend of ours that passed away 2001. Usually ever President's day weekend we go and pay our respect to him and then we go to Logan to visit a baby girl whose parent's have moved to California and are friends' of Elle. I had mentioned to Elle that I wanted to get to a cemetery in Harriman but could never find it. She said she'd show me if it weren't to dark when we got back.
Well it was dark when we got back but she showed me how to get there so I could at least know where it was next time I wanted to go. It was way out and very dark. Sorta creepy, but it was OK, I had prepared myself to be in cemeteries for our road trip
Yesterday morning (Thursday) I got up, did the morning ritual took Ali-bop to school. Before I knew it I was in my car headed for Harriman. I was cranky and not in the best of moods. I was tired from the day before. Cold from the day before. I'm not sure why the cranky mood. I get the cemetery and was pretty fascinated by it. It was rather small, not office or anything to go into and inquire of anything. There was a Pioneer Memorial and a Veteran Memorial that captured my attention. I read the memorials of the people who settled the area and Veteran's that died so that we might live freely in this country. And then I walked around and found some of the resting places of these people. In my walking around I came across a very bare site. Just a cement slab, none of the garnishing and decorations that so many of the other stones had.
It simply said: "Native American, No Name, No Date."
I was mesmerized. I kept reading it over and over. I walked away with that burned into my Memory. I took a couple of steps to the left passed another head stone, can't remember the names or dated. Took another couple of steps and came across another cement slab.
This one said:
"Afro-American Woman, No Name, No Date."
I physically could not take a step for about 2 minutes. My mind could hear people calling, the name wasn't clear but it was as if they were searching for someone.was she scared? Was she lost? Was she cold, neglected?
A rush of different feelings came over me and then I felt nauseous. I grabbed my Camera and took a couple of pictures of the head stone. I began to walk away. And then I saw "Native American, No name, No Date" etched in my head as if saying...."what about me?" I went back and took a picture of that headstone. I soon left after that. My mind was focused on the images of "No Name, NO Date."
How sad. How Alone. No more! I called my sister on the way home and told her what I just experienced.
She said... "wait.. there's no birth date?"
I said "no."
She said... "no death date?"
I said "no"
I heard myself say.. "We're adopting them!" Can I tell you how cool my family is?
She said... "OK!"
She will "name" the Black Woman. I'm letting my daughter name the Native American. We don't even know the Gender of the Native American.
I also told Elle that we're adopting them. She too, said.. "OK"
I have just adopted 2 new family members. I don't know who they are, where they came from or even if they led good lives or not. But my heart has found all this love for something about them. I have to honor that. We will be going to visit them very soon.