You son of a bitch! You moved the cemetery, but you left the bodies, didn’t you?! You son of a bitch, you left the bodies and you only moved the headstones! YOU ONLY MOVED THE HEADSTONES! WHY?! WHY?!
Steve Freeling, Poltergeist
A classic quote from a classic movie.
Yesterday, 13 September 2018, marked the ninth anniversary of my sister’s death. It’s as stark as that. I’ve never felt the urge to post about it publicly before, but this blog is making me look more closely at the headstones in my pictures and wonder not just about the aesthetic or the location, but also about the people who have passed on and those left behind.
How can I pass comment on cemeteries and death without sharing a little bit about what it means to me?
I mean, c’mon, wht’s not to love about these Poe-ka dot socks. They are one of my favourite things.
“Oh how wonderful,” proclaimed the posh lady from the Friends of Highgate Cemetery as she ticked off the second ‘Linda’ from her list, “a brrrace of Lindas.”
I loved it. Not only did I get to visit one of the best cemeteries in the UK, there was this completely bonkers woman signing me in. As far as I know, there is no collective noun for Lindas, but if there was, this would work for me…
This title was not meant to be a contender for world’s worst burial joke – though happy to judge if you pop a response in the comments…
No, as I started writing this blog I realised I wasn’t entirely sure whether there’s a difference between the two terms. Are they completely interchangeable?