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Grave Hard: Oak Hill Memorial Garden, Olathe, Kan.

August 22, 2013
Get outta my dreams, get into my grave.

Get outta my dreams, get into my grave.

You guys, it’s almost fall. OK. It’s not almost fall. It’s late August, but to me, that’s almost fall. And something to celebrate! How do I celebrate the almost-fall times? I start going to graveyards.

This year we begin our Grave Hard excursion at Oak Hill Memorial Garden in Olathe, Kan. This cemetery is small, new and pretty gosh darn boring. But I wanted to include it in my graveing travels because it contains one of my family members.

Lindsey*, a relatively close family member, killed herself at a young age. Her family was aware of her sadness and did everything they could to help her “get better.” But as anyone who has been depressed knows, sometimes that doesn’t matter.

As you can imagine, Lindsey’s death affected everyone in the family. Even I, who didn’t know her well, was deeply bothered when I found out about her death. We were close in age and at the time, I had no understanding why someone that young would want to die. Over the years, though, I’ve faced depression and (luckily) have always been able to tell my sadness to screw off.

I still think of Lindsey when I get sad. And now, at the very least (and I mean very, very least, because we all know this won’t bring her back), her memory does help me remember why life is worth living. What does that mean for me? Well, I know there are a ton of horror films I’ve yet to see. I mean, I can’t die until I see a lot more death. It’s as simple as that.

Anyhow, let’s move on to a few other graves…

Stylin' in the afterlife.

Stylin’ in the afterlife.

This grave gets my vote for, “Best Damn Grave in the Ground,” at Oak Hill. It’s not special, really, but I fancy it for three reasons:

I can’t understand it: That makes me think there’s some type of hidden message there, which is always a bonus in my book.

It’s black and red!: I dig those colors.

It isn’t flat and boring: After visiting Oak Hill, I’m angry. I’m angry that people aren’t more creative when it comes to their last words. Seeing just how uninteresting everyone’s final words typically are has made me start planning my gravestone design. Because really, if I get hit by a bus in the next few months, I want to be remembered as being a sarcastic pain in the ass. I’m brainstorming quotes and gravestone “mural” ideas now.

Here’s a grave that exemplifies my irritation with modern graves:

Not my grave bag.

Not my grave bag.

Really? You want to be remembered with an image of a cat and some wheat? Now, If I had a grave adorned with a chiseled dog (because I have a beagle, duh), I’d at least make it a zombie beagle who is ripping out the throat of some unsuspecting graveyard walker.

Something like this, but way more houndy.

Something like this, but way more houndy.

Next week I will visit a Shawnee Mission graveyard that resides near my residence. It has big ass graves and looks super rad, so I’m sure the art for that post will be better.

If you’re thinking about suicide, please call someone. For more help and information, visit the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline.

*Name has been changed.

Image credit: Nit Soto

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