We got out of the car and walked away from the glare of incandescent light. The waning moon was hidden beneath the horizon, leaving the cloudless sky bright with stars. As we walked further away from the unnatural light, the evening�s darkness enveloped us and our eyes began to adjust. My son grasped my hand, shivered from the chill, and I felt a pang of guilt. Was he truly too young for this? Had I allowed him to watch a movie, cartoon or sitcom I should not have? No, I decided. He needed to learn that things aren�t always as they seem, there was nothing scary about where we were.
My focus turned to the assignment as I scanned a few headstones with my key-chain flashlight. The teacher asked simply visit a grave and report any message received. Despite the vague directions, memories of loved ones flowed through me. Finally, I decided the LED beam was too imposing and stuffed it into my pocket. I squeezed my son�s hand reassuringly and closed my eyes. Clearing my mind, I waited patiently for a message to come. As soon as my son stopped shivering, I opened my eyes and they fell upon a statue of an angel. I am sure there is a scientific explanation for the ghastly glow the angel emitted through the darkness, but I have no doubt I was meant to visit that resting site.
As we walked to the angel, I asked my son if he could see it. He said, �Yes,� calmly and I knew he was more comfortable. Closer to the destination, I let go of his hand and he stood where I left him. I kneeled in front of the angel and whispered a thank you for the invitation. I looked up to the angel�s white stone face and it was unlike any I had seen before. It was neither that of a stereotypical female adult type nor a cherub. It was a soft, gentle face void of gender definition. I stood almost eye-to-eye with the angel on its pedestal; in both hands it held a red rose with bright green leaves. At the pedestal was placed another angel, a porcelain statuette with a blue dress and typical adult female face.
When I looked to the headstone, I found the angels were in memory of a couple. The man and woman lived well into their senior years and a guesstimate says they spent over 50 years together. I knelt before the headstone, cleared my mind, and felt a sense of satisfaction. These people passed without regret or longing.
The only fear I fear in death is to cross from this life longing to have lived one more dream, carried out one more adventure, gone one more mile. Kneeling by that stone I was assured my dreams would come true as long as I continued to meet them head-on; I will never have need for that fear again.
I nodded and smiled, thanking the essence of the couple for the message and asked permission to take a nearby pebble with me in remembrance. As I gave thanks, I bid them continue their rest in peace.
As my son and I drove home, the phrase �carpe diem� came to mind. What a powerful way to be reminded to seize every day�s opportunity and experience life to the maximum.