I have always been fascinated with cemeteries. I don't know why, but they have always been near and dear to my heart. This may sound really strange to you, but it is just the way I feel. If I told you anything different, it would be a lie.

It is not that I am some kind of a ghoul or something. And it isn't that I like to see people die. In fact, the exact opposite is true. When I go to a wake, funeral, shiver or any kind of ceremony related to someone passing on, I feel overwhelmed with compassion. I begin a journey of introspection. After this, a certain amount of solace and then finally a quiet peace and calm envelopes my soul for hours and sometimes even days and weeks after.

My father and I used to go to a lot of funerals and wakes together. You could say that he and I were kind of "mourning buddies". It wasn't by choice. It was just that my mother and two sisters tended to avoid these types of events because they felt a certain kind of discomfort about them. My father and I used this time to grow close and talk philosophically.

We had engaging discussions about life, death, God and heaven. We pondered the vastness of the universe, the greatness of God and the love of our family, and connected on a level we never would have, had we been in an ordinary situation together.

Lately, I’ve been feeling strong, weird feelings about life, death, love and people. It is as if I am being touched inside by something; touched deep in my soul. I have become very sensitive to others. It feels as though sometimes, I can almost feel their emotions. Well, to be honest, I don't know whose emotions they are. Maybe I am wrong to assume that they are theirs. Maybe they are just mine and I am projecting them on others.

Whoever’s emotions they are, they are strong and have made me very sensitive to this world and the human plight. I get very nostalgic about my past: relatives, friends, my childhood, my present (That is, if you can get nostalgic about the present). I don't know what is causing this, or if it may have any significance to anyone else, but it seems to be some kind of an awakening in my life. I was just curious if others have felt something also.

I wonder if others feel the same way about cemeteries as I do. I wonder if they notice the cool shaded stones against the warm summer grass. I wonder if they love the craftsmanship of the stones and mausoleums, the last monuments to great lives. And finally, I wonder if they see mortuaries, funeral parlors and cemeteries as final portholes to a last great awakening of eternal life.

Only in church, during a sunny summer morning service, with the choir expounding the love of Jesus, have I felt the majesty, the holiness, the finality that I do during a hot, New England summer night in a cemetery, listening to the sounds of bullfrogs. Only in a cool, stone Catholic church, with the morning sun beaming through the stained glass windows, have I felt the comfort that I do in a cemetery; huddled around a loved ones grave and holding hands with family members whilst morning the passing of a loved one, knowing that he has finally found eternal peace with God.