Earlier this weekend, we stopped at the one-time home for disabled veterans outside Marion, Indiana.  A distant relative called the brick buildings and wooded acreage home for several years, generations ago.  The historic buildings are alternately charming and worn …

Some buildings have holes in their rooftops, and some, like this one, are full of architectural details from another era.

A little oval window …

and curving columns …

The site, recognized by the Park Service, serves as a cemetery.  According to one website, 61.5 acres serve this purpose, a beautiful and moving sight.

Close up, individual graves can be discerned, while in the distance, their numbers blur into untold many.  The solemnity never becomes impersonal, between the occasional distinctive memorial and the details carved into markers.

Here, a large, darkened stone recognizes a nurse in the Spanish American War.  On some seemingly plain, uniform markers, a wife’s name can be found on the back of her husband’s memorial, with a few heartfelt words.

All in all, a place that calls on us to reflect and remember.  Following the curving lines here leads from one life to another …

and each marker poses new questions, from when and where a battalion noted beneath a name served, to why an infant of six months might rest among veterans.  These graves represent not just endings, but stories told in too few words.

This entry was published on May 31, 2016 at 1:53 am. It’s filed under remembering, road trip, summer and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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