18 November 2002

Cemeteries in France

There seem to be a lot of young men in French cemeteries.   Some graves are from the last two world wars that were fought right here on this soil.  Thhere are a lot of younger men who died recently.  Overwhelmingly, most of the graves are of men.

Many graves in the country cemeteries are lovingly cared for.  The graves have long thick granite or marble slabs on top of them with etchings of the family name.  Some of the slabs show pictures of the person, while others have carvings to show their occupation like house painter, roofer or farmer.  

Sometimes there are several huge pots of plants like hydrangea and dahlias sitting on top of the marble slabs.  People also place little marble square foot size “souvenirs” (remembrances) on top of the slabs.  Normally the souvenirs say things like “mon ami” (my friend) or “moi grand pere”  (my grandfather).  Often there are several of these little slabs propped up on stands at each grave.

Some sites even have little clay figures and poems painted delicately onto porcelain books.  The older graves often have glass flowers in the shapes of bouquets and wreaths.  Occasionally there are bead covered crosses about two feet tall.

I am deeply touched by the human out cry the graves represent, and the tremendous ongoing care that goes into the upkeep of each grave.

In the center of every cemetery is a large concrete memorial of some sort.  The words are always the same, “les enfants mort pour la France” (the children died for France).  Sometimes the memorial has the names of the people who died in both WWI and WWII. ..sometimes just WWI.

A few times we have driven past huge cemeteries of what appear to be a thousand white crosses.  The sight of those graves takes my breath away.  Some cemeteries have British soldiers from both world wars.  One cemetery actually has a small wooden box mounted on a pole near the British graves.  Inside the box is a book that lists the names of the soldiers who are buried there.  We commented on the fact that if this were America the box would be vandalized with the 50-year-old book long gone from that sacred place.

I think of all those mothers who gave birth only to have the life of their child or in some cases children snuffed out in their prime.

Some people would say this is the price of freedom.  Maybe that was true during the time that the Germans wanted to rule the world, but still I am not sure how I could recover if one of those graves was my father, or brother, or husband or child.

Visiting cemeteries makes me feel sad. I think about how ridiculous our cemeteries are in the US.  My grandparents are buried in a manicured place where we can’t put anything on the grave because it will interfere with the caretaker’s mowing.  Every grave looks the same and each time I go it takes me a little while to find the markers of the two people I loved most when I was growing up.

It strikes me that modern American cemeteries reflect our lives.  Death must be sanitized, put into a neat package without us getting very involved and then left to someone else to take care of.  It’s obvious from the care that is taken to create these huge cemeteries of pristine lawns and well-trimmed flat gravestones that our grief has to be expressed in other ways.  I am not quite sure how that happens.

I think the French have the right idea.  They create simple places to bury their dead and decorate them with everything their hearts are feeling. 

I have learned a lot about the people that inhabit this beautiful place just by visiting the places where they bury their dead.  The French are a hard working people who love their families dearly.  They feel deeply.  They feel pride in their country.  They have sacrificed a lot to be free.  They have a lot in common with us.