Oak Park

I have an affection for old cemeteries.  I have an affection for one old cemetery in particular.

When I was a child summer officially arrived when the enormous iron urn came out of storage, was filled with red geraniums, and transferred to the graves of my grandparents.  This ritual occurred, unfailingly on Memorial Day weekend and was followed by weekly trips to the cemetery to keep an eye on the health and well being of the plantings.  I loved those weekly excursions.  I loved walking among the old grave stones with my Dad, reading the names on headstones, and searching in earnest  for the oldest grave.  I was never frightened or wary.  Perhaps it was my small hand in his that provided  comfort and assurance.   All these years later, when I drive through the gates of Oak Park Cemetery, the warm feelings return.



Oak Park is a beautiful place, the grounds dotted with granite mausoleums and grave stones of varying sizes and shapes.  Unfortunately time has taken a toll and most of the old buildings have fallen into a state of disrepair.  I imagine that when this cemetery was established in the early 1900s no one could fathom the high cost of perpetual care moving into the next century.



To my eyes it is still beautiful.  The aging ivy covered buildings shaded by century old oaks adds to its  charm and the mystery.



Earlier in the week I spent a morning wandering the grounds.



I was drawn to the ivy,



fascinated by the granite,



intrigued by the cold hard edges of death against the warmth and softness of life.



I was curious about William Devlin.  He must have been a wealthy man to afford to spend eternity in such grandeur.





Eventually I found my way to the veterans area.  Row after row of simple grave markers and American flags.  Most were veterans of the "great war."  Some made the ultimate sacrifice while others returned from battle to live long lives, yet in death chose to rest among the warriors.





A visit to Oak Park these days means a visit with my Dad.  We talked of old times and current events.



I left assured that all is well and hope that one day we will again walk among the old grave stones together, my small hand in his.