The Gravity of Graveyard Wisdom

“The meaning of life is that it stops.”

― Franz Kafka

If life didn’t end…if it went on forever, I doubt it would have much meaning at all. It is the finite nature of life that makes it so sacred.

Have you ever heard of the mental exercise of imagining yourself attending your own funeral…looking down at your dead body in the casket/urn and asking yourself questions such as: “Did you achieve what you set out to?” and/or “Were you truly happy?”

And then if you don’t like your answers, goes the wisdom, then you best kiddy up on making a few tweaks so you can change that ending…to a life you can be proud of (and satisfied with) versus one you simply settled for.

Mentally visiting one’s future funeral is a useful exercise…I highly recommend it.

But have you ever considered visiting your own grave…imaginary or otherwise?

I was widowed at thirty-two. My husband was buried in a casket then laid to rest in a burial plot, complete with a stunning slab of polished black marble for a headstone. His name and date of birth and death are, of course, carved into that headstone.

Beneath his name and dates is a big blank space. Then under that, at the very bottom, is an epitaph that reads, “Until…