Anna Shinoda

In My Remains

I’m not sure why I love visiting old graveyards, perhaps it comes from running though the one near my grandparents’ house during lighting storms in the summer – the open roads were surrounded by cornfields and soybean fields, leaving me feeling tall and vulnerable.  In the graveyard under towering trees I felt safe.

Perhaps that, but more likely it is a fascination of what we do with our dead.  I think most people hope that there will be a person who loves us who will do something unique and inspiring with their remains.  A nice gravestone.  A statue above.  For some, during times of great plagues and war, there are less desirable ways to dispose of our remains:  mass graves.

Some of these eventually were dug up and stacked to line the catacombs; now miles of bones under the streets of Paris.  Perhaps even more interesting is a graveyard outside of Prague considered so holy that there wasn’t enough room for all those wishing to be buried there, so to make room, the older occupants were dug up, their bones used to decorate the chapel.

Regardless of where our shells end up, eventually every person who truly knew us will pass, and the real memories of who we truly were will fade, leaving only statues, or tombs, or gravestones… or chandeliers made of bone.  They will all eventually crumble, the names fading: even the stone meant to forever immortalize is not permanent.

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12 thoughts on “In My Remains

  1. This is a very interesting blog! Thanks for sharing!

  2. Interesante, yo vi un documental en NatGeo una serie llamada Tabu y en un episodio hablaron sobre personas, no recuerdo si dijeron que eran de Bangkok, Tailandia, pero el caso es que la ciudad esta tan poblada y hay tanta pobresa que muchas personas que no tienen hogar, ni trabajo se van a vivir a los cementerios con todo y pertenencias. El gobierno no puede hacer casi nada por no saber donde reubicarlos y muchas de esas familias tienen niños pequeños o ancianos.

  3. hmmm, getting cremated sounds like more fun right now, for some reason…

    • emz321 on said:

      I wanna get cremated and then put into a series of fireworks. So that everyone has an awesome time and I go out with a bang!

      • Oooh, that sounds like a party!

        I always had this dream to be cremated and then have them fix up a highway road here in my country with my shes. That way everyone can “run by me” even after I’m no longer there in spirit! It’s in my Will, but I got informed to change it… O_o

  4. YoMarquesLP on said:

    Would love to visit the places you mentioned, I’m always interested in the stories related to them. And I can understand that it brings us some kind of peace to be around these places sometimes. Also, hope you had a great Halloween with your family! 😀

  5. evooba on said:

    Graveyards can be fun, old ones especially. Makes them perfect for pranks and spooky nights. My friends and I used to take long walks at night in a really old one a few years ago.
    Now things have changed, for me at least. As much as I enjoyed that as a kid, I hate it know cause it makes me feel sad and miserable since I lost a person I really loved and meant a lot to me. Graveyards now remind me of the bad memories of that person and I don’t want that…wanna remember the good days and memories.

  6. I sorry if this is too long, but your post reminds me of this poem … the site where I got the translation is at the end I hope you do not mind … I was going to translate, but it’s better if translated by an expert 🙂

    Rhyme LVIII. Gustavo Adolfo Bécquer
    Al ver mis horas de fiebre… (On seeing my hours of fever)

    On seeing my hours of fever
    and insomnia pass slowly,
    on the edge of my bed,
    who will sit?

    When my trembling hand
    which is about to collapse
    seeks a fellow hand,
    who will hold it?

    When death glazes
    my eyes of crystal,
    the lids still open,
    who will close them?

    When the bell sounds
    (if it sounds at my funeral),
    to ask for a prayer,
    who will murmur?

    When my pallid remains
    burden the earth,
    over the forgotten grave,
    who’ll come to cry?

    At the end of another day,
    when the sun shines once more,
    that I passed through this world,
    who will remember?

    Translated by H. Landman

    http://spanishpoems2.blogspot.com/2007/05/gustavo-adolfo-bcquer-rima-lviii-al-ver.html

  7. Hm. I don’t know where your bones are, if you have any here. Don’t become obsessed with other people’s curses if the path they are on could curse you too. Of course there was a deviation there. And those bones were mine and your brothers’, the two with his hand on my cheek. For some reason, couples liked to pretend that those bones were the bones of spies for God and *poof* off they went to other planets. Your boyfriend is 6’4. 🙂 So, if you had wierdos convincing you that those bones were really yours, and Michael was not Marc Anthony- that is why. Like I told Arsinoe, sorry I’m not covered in soot and diamonds. I’m not rattling off curses to impress sinners or bowing down to mind control. I mean, I was a little like, apprehensive. Just because I married you two. I’m a weird gay man, I’m sorry. But bottom line, your husband was hanging out with my cousin, a drug user, and he was borderline mean to me in that regard one night at the club. He caused my half Japanese cousin Andrea to get cursed. Holding someone that you know nothing about and waiting for shards of energy is the same as being on social welfare. I’m not mad at him, I just think he was forced to grow up a little quickly and he was hanging out with some bad people. You should see this statue at the mediation center they impaled us with. Good day, sister, hope you snap out of it soon. I’m homeless and I have aquired my daughter’s dog. They always dump 10 things into my lap at once, and then I have to worry about my comfort level, lack of money, etc. Call the cops, Anna, on spies in your life. It’s just because I had an identity crisis. Enjoy South Africa, my friend Constance’s dad Moses lives there. Can I have Socrates back? I humbly beg of you. I know you’re tired, and you want your prince back. Someone who always responds to your long pauses and doesn’t make strange faces when you look away. I’m wierd- I don’t find people attractive- but he’s gorgeous. 🙂 I want my husband back. Sorry for throwing him at you, it’s Benji’s fault for trusting Aryans. Throw him back at me, and Anna, make sure he’s eating 3 times a day with smaller meals in between. He’s so thin, it’s scaring me. I’m like 145, this is moderately heavy for me. Oh wow, I can pick him up. WE pretty much eat anything, but keep him away from condusive liquids, first and foremost, is what I’m compelled to say. I would order him a lot of food like pizza and Chinese and tell him to eat it like goulash. Don’t overanalyze it, and feed your chi. If light starts pouring out of his eyes, tell him to eat bread. ANNA- BUY MIKE A LOT OF PLAY-DOH. He needs it. I mean, either that, or like, you can come and get me and I will feed him. I’ll bite his forehead, I can’t wait to feel how his bones are formed, and I want him to check it out over here. I think my dad was Judas and my mom was a wierd voodoo indian. I would have dived in with Arsinoe had they went through with murdering me. So, lots of Play-Doh for your big brother, and Mikey, I love you… *peanut gallery goes like this* BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH WE HAVE NO F’ING LIVES so we want to LMAO be all up in yours.

  8. I love the graveyard near Prague! I live in the Czech Rep. and it’s probably my favourite one here 🙂 (if it’s not too weird having a fave graveyard lol)

  9. Pingback: In My Remains | 10Ch_iie

  10. I did an entire photography project on graves/headstones and since then, I have to say, I enjoy photographing them (respecting families of course). And because they’re so peaceful. Old monasteries are amazing too (being from Ireland, there’s quite a few). They often have all the history laid out for you, as well as creating some cool photos. Hope you and the family had a good Halloween!

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