No, not the cemetery nor the stones. I do like to read them and ponder on the lives of the occupants and have on occasion, usually while vacationing, just visited some for the express purpose of going to a cemetery. But most of the time I only find myself going during what is normally a sad occasion and the occasion itself is somewhat disheartening.
There is a small local cemetery on land that my wife’s ancestors donated to a Lutheran church back in the 1800’s. It is filled with headstones of area families, those who were born, lived and died within a few miles of the site. The church is no longer there but the cemetery remains.
It had fallen into disuse and subsequent disrepair but a couple of decades ago the locals got together, cleaned it up and began to maintain it again on a regular basis. They also opened it up and started selling lots again. My father-in-law is buried there and several other members of the family own lots there now.
My wife and her cousin caused quite a stir there a year after her father died. On Día de Muertos they took a package of Hershey kisses and a can of Dr. Pepper, her dads favorites, and set them on his gravestone. Such a thing just didn’t happen in a Lutheran Cemetery! But, times change and the years pass and with the influx of Catholics, mostly Hispanic now, being interred there such a sight is not uncommon and accepted without question these days.
It is a quiet, peaceful rural setting and a few folks have placed concrete benches at or near the graves of family members. I usually find myself going there a couple of times a year, to take photos sometimes, but mostly to sit quietly and reflect on life as I watch the sun set over the pastureland.