On my days in the office, I watch the people in the park who come to visit. They set up their chairs and sometimes they sit quietly reading a book. It’s a nice sight, but it’s nothing I can ever picture myself actually doing.

I guess I never understood the point of talking to dead people because I never quite believed that they were listening. I grew up Seventh Day Adventist, and we were taught that the dead were sleeping.

I honestly don’t know if I believe that either.

“Well, maybe Riverside National, since it’s free with my veteran’s benefits. And that’s not too far for you to drive.”

My mom was taking about where she would be buried.

“It doesn’t matter to me. Once you’re in the ground, I won’t be back.”

I said this jokingly, but she knew I was serious.

I’m sure to some of you, that sounds a bit harsh.

Visiting the grave of a loved one can be incredibly comforting to some people. It can be torturous for others. For me, I’ve always been indifferent. Maybe it’s because I’ve spent so much time in cemeteries, or maybe it’s my inability to face the finality of my mom’s name carved in a granite slab, but I’ve never gone to visit the graves of the people I’ve lost after the funeral.

What brings me the most peace is spending time doing things that remind me of the person. Their favorite book, movie, or looking at pictures. I just don’t get that same feeling from their place of rest.

What about you? Where do you find your peace?