08/21/2026
There are so many examples of love in a cemetery. ❤️
I’ve spent much of this summer mowing the Kaysville City Cemetery, and the longer I spend among these headstones, the more I realize that I’m not simply looking at names and dates.
I’m looking at love made visible.
A husband remembering his wife.
A mother remembering her child.
Children remembering their parents.
Families choosing to place their names together in stone.
Flowers left years after someone has gone. Photographs. Scriptures. Poems. Benches made so someone can sit beside the person they miss.
One bench I came across says:
“I happened to see you passing through my life, so I thought I’d love you.”
I keep thinking about that.
Because isn’t that what this life is?
We happen to find one another here, passing through this world for a little while. And if we are lucky, we love one another along the way.
Then, when someone leaves us, we build monuments—not because stone can bring them back, but because love refuses to simply disappear.
And there is something beautiful about caring for a place like this.
I don’t know most of the people whose names I pass while mowing. I don’t know their stories. But I know they were someone’s beloved.
So I mow around their stones. I notice their names. I stop to read their words.
In a small way, I am caring for the place where someone chose to remember someone they loved.
A cemetery may look like a place filled with death.
But if you slow down and really look, it is filled with something else entirely.
Love.
Love that was lived.
Love that was lost.
Love that was remembered.
Love that was carved into stone so it could outlast the people who first spoke it.
Every headstone seems to whisper the same simple truth:
You were here.
You were loved.
You mattered.
And you are remembered.
🪦❤️