CEMETERY MOMENT
One spring morning, a lone
figure came
walking up a cemetery path
– looking like -
he was looking for - a
grave – obviously.
About 30 or 40 yards away
– under a tree
were two women, also visiting their dead –
looking to see where the
stranger was heading
The two women had never seen him here
before. The stranger was looking around,
but finally found the grave he was looking for.
The stranger – it was me – was at an almost
empty cemetery in Portland, Maine. I sat
down on the green grass – at that grave.
Time ticked on – till the two women walked
over to talk to the stranger. “Family? Friend?
We’ve never seen anyone visit this spot before?”
I said, “She’s my dad’s sister. I visited here -
maybe 30 years ago – and finally got back.
I’m on a cruise and our
ship is in the harbor.”
One woman read out loud
the name and
the numbers on the grey
granite tombstone.
“Sister M Matthias
Costello 1884 – 1913.”
I said, “She died long
before I was born. I
never knew her. I don’t
know anything about
her – other than she died
of TB at 29.”
Silence …. Then I added,
“She was like
Saint Matthias. All we know is he chose
Christ and Christ chose
him. That’s it.”
I told the two women my
dad’s two sisters
are buried here – also
nuns – and together
we found their graves –
and his brother as well.
Then they took me to their
husband’s graves,
who had died
recently, We said some prayers.
Then they took me down to the harbor and my boat.
