Gravestone Dilemmas
by Alice D. Outwater, Ph.D.,
November 4, 2010, page 14.....

My husband, John, died a year ago August 12. My last responsibility is to choose his gravestone, to be placed in the Grandview Cemetery adjacent to the Charlotte Congregational Church where his ashes lie. I go there numerous times and wander, tape measure in hand, examining the stones that might be suitable.

The cemetery is an engaging place, well kept with mowed grass and large trees: white pines, cedars, red oak, black locust, ornamental Colorado blue spruce, and five handsome shagbark hickories extending up the hill to the oldest plots. I find the place oddly peaceful and comforting. The names on the stones, dating back to about 1827, record the history of Charlotte, with many descendents still living nearby.

Selecting a grave marker is more complex than I anticipated, and I’ve felt uneasy for weeks. John and I had selected a double lot on a slight slope in a newly opened area below. At the time, it never occurred to us to decide upon a gravestone. I can’t help but smile, realizing he would have enjoyed the process and been definitive in his choice.

I need to pick the kind of stone and the color: pink from China, granite in various shades, slate. Then upright or flat – the height, width, thickness, and finally the type of lettering.

John was a man of tall stature, old-fashioned in values and manners, yet modern and creative as an engineer. He was straightforward and practical. I want his gravestone to embody these qualities. He was fascinated by stone, and we traveled the world while he led five archeology expeditions. We visited ancient sites, such as Stonehenge, Greek temples, Machu Picchu and the Egyptian pyramids.

After much agonizing and consulting my children and two architect friends, I decide on a light gray granite, elegant and unpolished. The stone will be cut in the Barre quarry. The top will have a slight oval curve, and the sides, a rough finish. The stone will be incised with OUTWATER, then below in smaller letters John Ogden Jr. Jan. 2, 1923 – Aug. 12, 2009. Alice Davidson Nov. 3, 1921 will be opposite. It seemed weird to put my name on now with no death date, taxing practicality to the max.
Many gravestones are embellished with grapevines, leaves or angels. No frills for John, just a dignified classic stone.

Next I must determine the size of the stone: best that it fit in with the surrounding ones, not too small but not towering over the others. I take some pleasure in using the golden mean of 0.62:1 width vs. height as the Greeks did in their architecture; it always gives such a gratifying effect. Then what type size and font for the engraving? I feel muddled when confronted by these many details.
Now, all the selecting is over and I approved the artist’s drawing. The stonemasons are cutting the stone in the Barre quarry. Next the engravers will engrave the letters. The base, somewhat longer than the gravestone will be laid with a cement foundation in the cemetery. Finally the stone will be placed. This needs to be done before the frozen ground of November or we’ll have to wait until late spring next year.
A nagging uneasiness lingers, so once again I stroll through the graveyard. I view the stones lined up in rows, names and dates carefully carved on each, bringing them to life.
I return as the light fades. The trees are sentinels watching over their charges, as breezes rustle through the leaves. A damp, earthy smell from an earlier rain rises from the ground. The air seems charged as if ghosts might be stirring, stretching out and looking around, even visiting with each other.
I wonder with whom John might chat and the stories he will share... I quietly flipped my flashlight to walk back to the car, finally reassured he is comfortable with his new companions.
Now I have other things to accomplish and will return from time to time to check John’s well-being. Eventually I’ll join him... Oh, the tales we’ll have to share. How we’ll laugh at my gravestone dilemmas.