English 1A
Eternally Yours
As a child, I was never fazed by the concept of what death was. Funerals were not scary. Cemeteries were merely a place of rest. It was all simply a reminder that I was growing up. And, with life, there sometimes comes heartache and sorrow. I have been to several funerals in my lifetime, perhaps more than the average person should ever attend. Nevertheless, I believe that my experiences with the deaths of ones I once knew shaped me as a person. Eternal Valley Funeral Home and Cemetery was the place where I made some of my fondest memories, and is where I became the person I am today.
There is a long driveway at the entrance of Eternal Valley. To the left of the entrance sits nestled a monumental book in the mountain. The book has the history of the park written upon it. Driving through the gates, one sees luscious, green, rolling hills that go on for what seems to be forever. On top of the highest hill, four flags sway over the military garden, where my grandfather’s plot is. The well-groomed green grass is clothed in flowers. Hundreds of headstones cover the ground. The newer ones shine and are smooth, while the oldest ones are rough and stand tall. On one hill rests the funeral home covered with stained glass windows and distinguished old wooden doors. Inside, the old-fashioned interior adds to an eerie feel of the long halls and big open rooms.
Looking back, I can almost feel the Santa Ana winds blowing through my hair. Sitting at my brother’s graves (which lay right beside each other), my parents and I would often come to the cemetery to visit them. We would sit by their plots and talk about times past. For us, the countless hours spent there were not odd. It was just part of our routine—a family outing, even. Although it does not seem like a typical way to bond, it is what we did. And I grew to love it. I enjoyed being there because it meant so much to my parents. At times, they would talk amongst themselves while I played in the fields, singing and daydreaming. There was quietness in those hills that created a feeling of peace. Being there was relaxing.
I can vividly remember the services that took place there. My brothers Jeremy and Freddy were buried two years apart from each other, and then my grandfather. I still hear the sounds of the 21-gun salute from my grandfather’s graveside service and the sound of bagpipes playing “Amazing Grace.” Peculiar memories for a young person, but growing up all I really understood was that my loved ones all lived in these beautiful hills filled with gardens of colorful flowers. For me, that place meant so much. It was and is my happy place.
My grandfather’s plot lies upon the highest hill. He is with all the military graves. My grandmother and I visit on Sundays when I am in Southern California. It seems strange to some, but visiting family at the cemetery on special occasions, like birthdays and holidays, is common for us. It is a way to honor and remember them.
Exposed to one of the harshest realities of life, death, at such a young age put me at somewhat of an advantage. Most of my friends, peers, and even adults I know do not have the mental capability needed to deal with tragedy that I had at age 6. It taught me to appreciate everyone and never take life for granted because one never knows when one’s last moment with someone might be.
The most recent member to join my loved ones at Eternal Valley was my father. When he died, we knew there would be no other place to lay him to rest but there. The strong connection I had there grew even stronger. It is now the home of my favorite person, my daddy.
Since I was a little girl, every time we passed the cemetery I would name off my family and say hi to each of them. Now I have one more person to add to that list. There are places in everyone’s life that have shaped them and helped them to develop character and to become who they are. This is mine.