Please note: This is entirely a work of fiction. I do not know this person. The only thing I know about this person is that, presumably, his name was Gregory Carter.
Dear Mr. Carter:
I do not know you. I have never met you, nor you I. The only things I know about you is that, if the information on your tombstone can be taken be true, your name was Gregory, you were a young 36 years old when you died, and that you are buried at the Homeville Friend's Meeting House cemetery in Cochranville, PA.
I came across you one summer day when I was on a drive-about to take photographs. I have always had something of a fascination with cemeteries, gravestones and tombs and was looking to expand my photography skills by visiting new ones. Perhaps it is the peace, calm, and serenity that draws me to them; for whatever reason, however, I came upon you and was struck by the majestic tranquility of your resting space.
Thirty-six years old. Thirty-six! Younger than my by over a decade. We were not that far apart in age. You could have been me. We might have known each other or gone to school together under different circumstances. I do not know the circumstances that brought you to this point, but your Epitaph is very succint and telling: Free at Last.
I remember sitting by your plot, gazing at the headstone with both a sense of wonderment and dumbfoundedness. Free from what, I wondered? There are so many afflictions that a person can suffer from. Was it a late bearing disease like cancer? Or was it something you carried with you for your life, such as cerberal palsy? The wording of the epitaph makes me think it was a long-standing affliction you suffered, and one that, perhaps, finally brought you some peace when the end arrived.
You would have had family, of course. Everyone has family. Everyone has a father and mother at the very least. I'm sure they loved you, and you them, and I'm just as sure that your passing brought them more grief than relief for the end of your suffering.
I wonder what you would have enjoyed during your brief life. Did you like to watch TV? What types of shows? Perhaps, like myself, you enjoyed creating art, such as photography. Maybe you aspired to be a film-maker and win an Oscar for Best Director, and dreamt of accepting your award in the modified wheel-chair that would have been your chariot for daily activities. Greatness of Thought and Art know no physical limitations, after all.
Maybe we passed on the street, once or twice, and never knew it. Perhaps we even took a photograph of the same item once. Fate has a way of making such things possible!
Whatever your circumstance, your past, or your family's present, I can tell for sure that you were once alive in this world, a living, vibrant part of the mystery we know as Life, and I am positive that this Life was the better for having you in it. For the thirty-six years of joy and happiness that you have brought to this world, I thank you. Every life should be as loved as the one I am certain you felt.
(c) All images and photographs, unless otherwise specified, are created and owned by me.
(c) Victor Wiebe
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