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A marker that means something

In Hollywood Hills, Calif., is the renowned Forest Lawn Memorial Park, a cemetery that since the early 1900's intentionally set itself apart from other similar sites.

In Hollywood Hills, Calif., is the renowned Forest Lawn Memorial Park, a cemetery that since the early 1900's intentionally set itself apart from other similar sites. Its designer envisioned towering trees, sweeping lawns, fountains, statues and art to reflect his belief in a joyous life after death.

I was about nine years old when I visited the place. The mosaics, paintings and sculptures made it feel more like an art tour than a trip to the cemetery, except of course for all the markers denoting the more than 120,000 graves.

I've never liked going to cemeteries; then again, a lot of people likely feel the same. We are typically there at life's toughest moments. But the last couple of summers I have been to some different cemeteries and the experiences were meaningful. One was a visit to a historic site, one to find the headstone of a young man who died during the Spanish Flu, and one when we stopped to see the prettiest little country church and wandered through its adjoining cemetery.

At each one, markers gave us a glimpse into individuals and their communities. They help to tell small pieces of stories that say these people lived and they mattered.

My dad is buried in a rural cemetery in Alberta. His funeral many years ago happened to fall on the coldest day imaginable in December and I remember the bitter temperature, snow and ice. But return visits have been in the spring or summer and I have appreciated the lush green grass, trees in full foliage and the peacefulness of the setting. I still may not like being there, but it means a lot to me that I have a place to go where a marker exists and his name is etched.

Grave sites can become places of interest or even destinations for pilgrimages. In South Dakota you can travel to the resting place of several members of the families made famous by the Laura Ingalls Wilder Little House books. On the day we were there, handwritten notes and mementos had been left by many tourists.

In New York, it has become tradition to visit the grave of voting rights activist Susan B. Anthony and put an “I Voted” sticker on her headstone. The gesture is seen as patriotic, but the build-up of sticky residue has damaged the stone. Prior to the 2020 election, a restoration committee had the stone cleaned and restored and then arranged for a plastic covering to protect the marker. The stickers were still placed, but the stone remained unaffected. 

But while those locations are well-known and marked, some families have intentionally left the burial sites of their loved ones unmarked; a decision driven by a desire for privacy or a fear of vandalism. That’s the case with basketball legend Kobe Bryant and his daughter who died in 2020, as well as a long list of celebrities.

Then there are instances when it's not the public's curiosity, but their contempt, that has resulted in unmarked plots. Mass shooters and terrorists raise particular concern. Some feel they are undeserving of commemoration while others don’t want their grave site to become gathering places of distorted hero worship.

What is a funeral home to do when no one will claim a body, or a cemetery denies burial for fear of negative publicity, desecration or potential protest? The parents of a school shooter said they could not find a cemetery that would take their son’s body so they had him cremated and scattered in an undisclosed location.

There are, of course, other reasons why graves remain unmarked. War, disease or natural disaster have left many without a marked resting place because there wasn't a body to bury or there were too many dying at one time. But at least there are efforts to establish memorials in some of these places.

Parks and monuments acknowledge their lives and give people a place to go, be still and remember.

That needs to happen for children who died at residential schools. They deserve better than unmarked, undocumented graves. So much better. Since they have nothing else, we can at least ensure they have a resting place that is their own, and something on which their name is etched.

The cemetery where my dad is buried has no professional staff like Forest Lawn to keep lawns manicured and everything pristine. Instead, there are volunteers who see it gets cared for. Communities that take good care of their cemeteries are to be commended. It means family and friends have a spot to visit that is uniquely theirs.

It means we have a place to take flowers. A context in which the tears are understood. A space that means something to us. Not everyone may want that, but those that do, should not be denied. That's my outlook.