Graveyard Reflections

I’ve always been drawn to cemeteries. This could be viewed as ironic considering I’d never want to be buried. With severe restless legs and claustrophobia, it was never going to happen. 

But I’ll run through them, take dates there, and now, for the second year in a row, work at one. And though every cemetery is special, this one happens to be magnificent. Befitting of its Harvard affiliations. It is Mt. Auburn Cemetery, hosting their seasonal Solstice event. Be warned: I will professionally field any jokes thrown my way about working the graveyard shift or dining with the dead. 

Because while we use ghost lingo in a lot of our everyday speech and pop culture, real cemeteries are no joking matter. 

I think an interesting thing about graves is that they represent something we can’t fully comprehend. We say people “ghost” us. Tate McRae has a (great) song called Grave. Lily Allen has a new iconic album with “mummy” incorporated into a play on non monogamy. Strange things - these subjects are seemingly all alive. It is through their actions (or lack thereof) that they have partitioned themselves.  

Actual phantoms are invisible to the naked eye, opposite of tangible. Even as a self-proclaimed medium, I have not a clue what really occurs when the threshold is crossed.

I think the dead are lonely. I enjoy seeing people lay flowers on graves, or asking a stone if it would like some company, reading the dates and/or quotes carved into it with deference and respect. I love the idea of hosting massively popular events in the dead of winter among the crypts. 

Hence why I love my job, short lived like life itself. As with life, I try not to take it for granted or let one day go to waste.

This mystical event (which happened to coincide with a supermoon on opening night), encourages me to think about the effects of the moon and the dead on my current breathing life.

What’s light without shadows?

What are shadows without light?

My path to the cemetery from Harvard Square, particularly at this time of year, is breathtaking. It is where nature meets what money and academic prestige can buy.

I'm talking wreaths in every ( arched) window. Yards that could steal your heart. 

Last night I walked home listening to the first Wicked film soundtrack. I was literally skipping on crosswalks when Dancing Through Life came on, and choking back tears as Ariana sings opera to the village about her dead friend (it’s the first scene-not a spoiler).

I touch on the commute because, as with any job, it matters. I missed orientation because the bus ride to Harvard square from Nubian station, near where I counsel students, is a living nightmare. Especially on that day. An intoxicated violent man was on the bus, refusing to get off. I emailed my higher ups and stayed on the bus as well. I was under the impression that my steady presence acted as a silent source of protection, and I wanted to see how the cops would handle it (not well). 

On the days I go directly from school to the cemetery, I don’t start out in the best mood. I’m usually physically and mentally exhausted, chugging caffeine on the way to stay upbeat for the undead. But the cemetery of all places is where you need to leave your first world problems at the door. 

Lucky for me, they’ve been giving me one of their exclusive walkie talkies and stationing me in the glass entrance to Bigelow chapel, so I get a constant view of the moon and get to act like a bouncer. Not to mention my caffeinated state offering smiles as big as my little mouth can muster.

They are genuine-I love this position. 

I promise I don’t let the uniform or walkie talkie access get to my head. The dead literally keep me grounded.

Loss is a frightful fragile thing that no one is immune to. Wearing my glow-in-the-dark solstice lanyard marks me as safe territory for people to talk to. 

And I’m glad. I don’t shy away from discussing grief- it saddens me that many do. To have someone that was a significant part of our lives go from being a colossal topic to a taboo one pierces my heart in excruciating ways. Society seems messed up for that reason alone. 

So far my favorite moment at this year’s Solstice is when I was asked to stand in a restricted area after most of my coworkers had already headed home, to prevent remaining stragglers from wandering through. It was a ghost town at that point so in reality I stood there for 10 minutes admiring the landscape.

 I was treated to a display like no other. Near the fog-releasing solstice centerpiece, various crypts were lighting up in time to haunting organ music. It was so magical I didn’t want to leave. I forced myself not to take a video of it and just enjoy with my own eyes. So if you want to see it for yourself, you’ll have to visit me at the cemetery. 

I’ll be waiting. 

https://www.mountauburnsolstice.org/tickets-2025