Chapter 2 #2
It was the cemetery that was next to it.
The cemetery entrance had two stone pillars on either side of the gate.
Both of the pillars looked like they’d been aged by centuries of being exposed to the Georgia heat, and rainstorms. Clearly time had stained them because they looked to be white stone that were weathered into different shades of aged ivory, charcoal and moss green.
It was so intriguing that I pulled over to the gates so that I could take a closer look.
The weather was gloomy, and the light drizzle was beginning to get heavier.
I wanted to get out of the car, but I didn’t again, exploring the cemetery was something that I’d have to do at a later time.
As I stared at the gate entrance, I could see that there were these large, cracked, thick spiderwebs across the surface that looked like they were straight out of book or scary movie.
Thick sheets of Spanish moss hung on the gates and the cemetery sign so thick that they looked like funeral veils.
The iron gate had to be at least twelve feet high.
It was black, heavy, eerie and beautiful.
From where I was and for as far as my eyes could see, the cemetery was enclosed with the same wrought iron fence that lined the church.
Now that I was closer to it, I could see that the iron itself had these detailed patterns of magnolia blossoms, curling roots and thorned vines engraved on it. The iron was dull, but it still looked very elegant in a way that was both threatening and regal.
At the center of the gate, I wasn’t surprised to see the Magnolia blossom emblem, yet this particular emblem was the largest one I’d seen compared to the others I spotted throughout the parts of the town I’d driven in.
While staring at it, the rain really started to pick up, it was almost a downpour at this point.
Rainwater started to collect in the grooves of the petals on the emblem and began to drip, looking like tears falling.
A wave of emotion hit me as I thought about the passing of my mom, and of how many of my ancestors were laid to rest in the cemetery. I was so overcome with grief that I couldn’t stop the tears falling from my eyes.
The sign was right next to the entrance, and it wasn’t inviting, or modern looking, it actually looked like a monument sign.
There was a thick slab of black granite that looked to be almost seven feet tall that emerged from the ground that was angled and surrounded by red magnolia bushes with clusters of white lilies.
Carved into the stone in gold lettering were the words; Magnolia Graves Cemetery; Est. 1821 and under the words I wasn’t surprised to see the emblem again, but instead of burnished brass this sign was a gold leaf color that looked faded and aged giving it a haunted and chilling essence.
Along the bottom edge of the monument was a quote that was deeply etched into it that read; What is buried remembers.
I wanted to drive through the cemetery as weird as that may sound but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it at that moment.
I always had this profound respect for cemeteries so much so that whenever I’d drive past one back home, I’d do the sign of the cross and say a little prayer for the deceased.
With that same respect, I did the sign of the cross, lightly tapping my forehead then both of my shoulders, said a quick Our Father prayer then grabbed my camera so that I could captured this moment.
I was going to most definitely come back to the cemetery on a different day to explore more and hopefully find some of my family’s lineage there. After a few minutes I rolled my window up just as a loud rumbling of thunder sounded off then lightning cracked across the sky.
Pulling off I drove past the cemetery grounds and once I got to the other side, I turned down a street that was lined with storefronts and these old brick buildings that had wrought iron balconies that gave the New Orleans, French Quarters vibe.
For it to be raining fairly hard, well now storming outside people were still out walking with umbrellas, most of them dressed in all-black and almost all of them stopped or turned to stare at me as I drove past. It was like they were looking at me because they knew me or because I was a new face and there were quite a few people out.
I came to a stoplight, and an older woman was standing in front of a storefront under an awning and when we locked eyes, she placed her hand to her throat as if she gasped for air giving me this look like she’d seen a ghost. Our eyes stayed locked until the light turned green and as I drove off, I looked in my rearview mirror, and she was still staring at me.
I was now just beyond the area of the church and was approaching a sign that was polished in gold in stone that read; Dubois Funeral Home.
Just as I read the name the storm became a violent downpour.
It was raining so hard that even with the windshield wipers on high I couldn’t really see out the window.
I was too afraid to pull off so I sat there for a few minutes.
The cars behind me pulled around me and continued on, but I stayed put.