Where Have All the Real Flowers Gone? Not to Graveyards Anymore

Willow Creek Mennonite Cemetery, © B. Radisavljevic

When I was a child there were certain holidays when my family would visit the cemetery with flowers for all our family members who rested there. They were real flowers, most from our gardens. I remember the search for the containers by the graves and putting water in them with the flowers. We lovingly left them to honor our loved ones. During my childhood, I don't think I ever saw an artificial flower on a grave.

In some cemeteries, that's about all I see anymore. I can think of many reasons why. The cemetery pictured above is an old one in rural Paso Robles. I'm guessing that many families have no surviving members in the area. I don't think I saw one real bouquet on a grave. I can't help but wonder who leaves the artificial flowers. It is those who leave the area after burying a family member they don't expect to visit again? Does the church associated with the cemetery take care of it? The church is no longer in that location. It is evident someone cares for the graves to keep them free of weeds.

Perhaps it just seems more practical these days to leave flowers that won't wilt. But the real flowers are a reminder that we all fade and die.

"As for man, his days are like grass.  He flourishes like a flower of the field; for the wind passes over it, and it is gone, and its place knows it no more. But the steadfast love of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting upon those who fear him..." Psalm 103: 15-17

Do you still see real flowers on graves? Why do you think artificial flowers seem to be replacing them in many cemeteries? Is it only in the West where a flower planted on a gravesite would not get water? Some cemeteries no longer allow people to plant flowers beside graves, and, sadly, potted plants are often stolen.

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Exploring the Mission Cemetery at San Miguel

Cemeteries show when people lived and died. Headstones sometimes tell something about what a person was like or how he or she was remembered by family, friends, or acquaintances. They do not speak much of what happened between the dates of birth and death. This is the front entrance to the cemetery at Mission San Miguel. (If you want to enlarge a photo to see it in more detail. Just click it.)

As I entered the cemetery, one thing that struck me was now impersonal it seemed. It appears that those buried here have been long forgotten by living people except, maybe, as generalities. Probably mot have no living family nearby. Many graves are not even marked. It is rare to see flowers or any other sign these graves have been visited by anyone but tourists or, perhaps, church members.

One thing  that struck me as I walked past the stones was how barren the cemetery seems. There are green trees and shrubs, but no grass and very little color to be seen. I wonder if this ever was green, since I don't even see dead grass. As you can see in the background, some of the landscaping is cactus. The cactus was starting to bloom in the middle of May.

As I walked farther back it became evident that this part of the mission has not yet been fully repaired after the earthquake of 2003. It's natural that the church was the priority, and its restoration was finished in 2009 so that it could reopen. The cracked walls, however, add to the mood of desolation I felt as I walked through and wondered about the lives of those buried in this piece of ground.

Looming above everything else in the cemetery is the crucifix. Jesus knew what it was to suffer and die. It is said the Native Americans were mistreated at the missions. Probably many were. Some may have been forced to convert and some may have been kept confined within these walls against their will.

Jesus died for the salvation of all -- the priests and the converts alike -- for all had sinned in the sight of God, just as we have. The shadow of the cross falls on this ground -- a symbol that God's love covers a multitude of sins.

We in this generation judge those in ages past according to our own culture's standards. God will judge all justly according to what was in their hearts. That is something we who live today will never really know.

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P is for Pleasant Valley Cemetery

A dear friend of my husband, Walter Heer, was laid to rest May 15, in a cemetery I had never heard of here in Paso Robles, Pleasant Valley Cemetery. It is also known as Estrella Cemetery, since it's on Estrella Road about a mile east of Airport road. To get there we passed the boarded up old boy's school and the airport. Shortly after that the scenery changed to mostly vineyards the rest of the way.

Walt's remains arrived by a mule-driven cart. This photo reflects Walt's love of America. He was a veteran of the Vietnam War, and he had a color guard as the casket was removed from the cart and put in place for the service. Just before the service began, a bugler played taps. The  soldiers removed the flag and folded it with great ceremony before giving it to  Walt's son. If you  have never seen this done, it's hard to imagine how moving it is.

A short graveside service followed. The pastor read the obituary and shared some Scripture passages before saying a few personal things about Walt's faith. Then he opened up the service for others who wanted to share memories.

The cemetery, as you can see, is surrounded by vineyards. During the service some people mentioned that those vineyards used to be farmland. Many at the service had farmed the land, just as Walt had. Most of the people buried here are, like Walt, longtime residents of the area who came from families who were longtime residents. The land was donated to the county for this graveyard. Its only maintenance is done by members of the Von Dollen family, who cut back the weeds once a year.

Very few people are still laid to rest here and most of the plots I saw are large family plots. I am assuming most of them belong to the farming families who originally owned the land in this area, and many probably still do. Others, like Walt, have sold their land and retired to the city. It is my opinion that some of Paso Robles' finest rest here and that it is a privilege to be forever in the midst of the land one has loved and worked.

Any of these photos can be enlarged if you click on them.

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