Take this kiss upon the brow,
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow
You are not wrong,
who deem that my days
have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone.
Edgar Allan Poe •
Whenever I visit cemeteries, I instinctually keep an eye out for the oldest dates that I can spy - not only those pertaining to burials themselves, but birthdays of the departed as well.
I haven't purposely gone through every headstone in our local cemetery yet to look for the oldest DOB, but I suspect that the two mid-nineteenth century dates on this couple's joint headstone would be amongst them.
When I think about these two souls, it strikes me - as such thoughts have before many times - that it is conceivably possible that when they were youngster, this pair may have knew (elderly) individuals who were born in the 1700s.
I have only to go a few generations back to say the same thing for some of my relatives who are still alive. My 89-year old maternal grandma, for example, knew many people, including her own father, who were born in the late 1800s.
It is conceivable - though I cannot prove for certain - that he might have known people born in the late 1700s. If not he himself, then almost certainly his own parents would have.
All of life is a bridge across the chasm of time that we add to with every birth. What seems like eons ago, was really not that long past.
I have these kinds of thoughts when I gaze into the faces in the antique photos I collect, when I visit museums and historic sites, when I read books about days past, and on myriad other occasions.
So, in the freshly fallen snow and biting wind, I stop and remember, Jospeh and Jeannie. Strangers in a sense, yet familiar in another, for we are all connected, all one people, far more similar than we will ever be different.
How many generations would it take you to reach the 1700s? Are you drawn to older dates on headstones as well? 🌹🤍🌹