Today I wandered around a cemetary for about two hours. I don't know why, really. There is nobody famous buried there (except Dalida, the French version of Cher... except Dalida was hot), but I enjoyed it. Perhaps I have a weird facination with death. Eerie, I know. But I think it's natural. Walking around the tombs of unknown thousands, formulating life stories based on the busts and other decorations of the grave: what better way to pass the time in Paris!
While daydreamingily meandering through rows upon rows of ornate coffins, I remembered a conversation I once had with my father. We discussed the entire idea of that empty spot on a tombstone. That blank space is reserved for when the deceased has a family member who also dies; then their name, DOB, and date of death are inscribed in that space.
What a horrifying concept! Imagine looking at a grave stone. There is your loved one's name and the day that they died. Right below that... nothing... yet. That smooth granite is eventually going to have your name carved in it, along with the day that you died! Talk about a feeling of impending doom.
I need to stop thinking about this. I need a drink (luckily I have to attend a company party in a half hour. Offical business stuff: scmoozing with the new business partner).
Cheers,
Matt
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1 comment:
Hey Matt,
Jen Seelin gave me your blog address, as not to be a creepy stalker. I am moving to Paris in about a week and have absolutely no friends between the ages of 11 and 55 who live in Paris and Jen said you're a pretty cool person, and you could possibly be a friend for me. I'll be an au pair during the week but I am living right in the center of the city (5ieme). Any way you can grab drinks with me and possibly be a nice American friend for a new addition to the city of lights? Hope you can help me out, sorry for the creepy post but Jen being the lovely friend she is gave me your blog address. Hope to see you in Paris!
Merci beaucoup,
Jessie
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