The Grave

As I visit my son’s grave I often walk among the tombs and read the records on the headstones of those who are buried there. I realize that the grave is the best teacher as it teaches us that both great and small will die.

As I visit my sons’ grave, I remember how I stood at the very same spot overwhelmed with sorrow and drowned in tears, the day I buried him. It is still unimaginable to me that David is in the grave. A lovely young man is gone. I gave him my love and affection and he was my delight. He filled my world with love, and wonder. He put a smile on my face and my heart danced when I saw his beautiful face. To have him so suddenly taken away from me and thrown into darkness is like a dagger thrust-ed into my heart. My passion for him as I leave the grave each time almost kills me.

There are sepulchers that are quite big and majestic. Some graves are obscure and small. As I examine the records on the graves I look at the birth and death dates. I realize that all rested together with no expectations for greatness. None were greater than others as death makes all equal. Why is it that in life we think that we are better than others? Why should we therefore exalt some men and ignore others? We all come to the same level when we die. We become undistinguished dust. The grave therefore has taught me more of the vanity and littleness of the world, than all the books that I have read.