Before I write anything about the walking tour of Riverside Cemetery, I thought I would offer some interesting, not-wholly-unimportant context about myself and cemeteries:
Unknown Date: Visited cemetery for the first time. Experience not memorable. At all.
Sometime(s) During Childhood-Early Adolescence: Frequent summer play dates at Lion’s Park in Fort Frances, ON. Park situated right next to a cemetery.
December 1998: Paternal Grandmother passes away. Casket is open until the service starts. Mom assures us that we can touch Gran, but she will be cold. Poke Gran on the wrist when I see her: she is cold. Arrive at the cemetery for the burial. Gran does not have a headstone. Disillusionment ensues. In the movies, there’s always a headstone. Begin to realize that Hollywood might be lying to me. Am v. sad.
Early 1999: Great-Uncle dies. Did not attend the funeral. Heard it was beautiful.
2002: Hide and Seek in the cemetery with at-the-time best friend, Dana. Rules – 1 person hides amongst the headstones; 1 person rides a bike on the road and seeks. First time I set foot on top of a grave. Have always been afraid to do so until then. Still feel uneasy whenever I pass over a corpse.
2002: Dana proposes a sleepover in a cemetery. Never happens.
2003: Receive driver’s license. Frequent drives in cemeteries with friends. Listen to too much Avril Lavigne during this time. Also introduced to Japanese Rap by long-time friend Amanda. Never allow Amanda to pick the driving music again.
Spring 2005: Explore the forest around the cemetery with friends. Find a small grave marked ‘Tiffany Rose’. General consensus – baby grave. Develop extensive fiction explaining why the grave is separated and largely unmarked. Feel like Nancy Drew.
Summer 2005: Taken to founder of Orangeville’s grave by Dad. Am decidedly less enthused than he is about the experience.
Summer 2007: Drive around graveyard in the West End of Fort Frances with sister. Find a family of deer living nearby. Listen to better music.
2008: Show baby grave to Dad. Find it surrounded by other small graves. Am informed by Dad that it’s a pet cemetery, not a baby cemetery. Am disillusioned yet again. Decide to no longer show my Dad things.
Summer 2010: Drive around cemeteries frequently with Dad. See headstones of VC winners, including Billy Bishop, and a lot of Mason graves. Am decidedly less enthused than Dad is about the Mason graves.
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