A Strange Habit That Changed My Life: Visiting the Dead

It might sound strange, even weird to others, but visiting the cemetery gives me a different kind of peace.

I started visiting often after I lost my father.

I can still remember initially my visits were purely out of grieving.

There was a sense of belonging in me — maybe I wanted to say something to him standing in front of where he was buried.

I wanted to sit in silence for few moments.

But with every visit, slowly it turned into a self reflection.

A quiet conversation with own self.

A place where no one coming to judge you.

A place where time slows down as if laws of physics does not exist.

When I sit near his grave, I don’t grieve anymore.

I ponder. I introspect. I forgive — both him and myself.

Beyond everything, for a moment I forgive and forget everything bad that happened to me.

And sometimes, I just sit without any objective.

No phone, no noise, no rush.

Just the sound of the breeze flowing through the trees, and the comforting chirp of a song sparrow that feels comforting and peaceful.

Over the past couple of years, I found myself visiting other graves too.

People I never personally knew. It did not feel odd to visit strangers, resting under headstones with unknown and faded engravings.

Some had fresh daisies, others had none.

Some graves were barely visited and few looked recent.

And in those silent and solitary moments, I felt the most important realization of life — how temporary we are and how little truly matters in the end.

When you’re surrounded by death, the noise of the world fades.

You really don’t worry about that email you haven’t replied yesterday, the house you want to buy next year, or that damn promotion you’re chasing.

You think about your relationships. Your regrets. The words left unsaid.

The hugs you gave in a hurry.

The fights you should have walked away from.

And trying to remember the small, warm moments that passed you when you were busy rushing into something meaningless.

I don’t go to the cemetery to fantasize death.

I go because it reminds me to be grounded.

It reminds me to be nicer with people.

To call my sister — Sarah more often. To help my wife — Sophia, when she’s struggling, even if she doesn’t ask.

To say “I love you” when I feel it, not when I have time.

It teaches me humility. That no matter how important we think we are, we’ll end up in the same silence.

Some people go to temples. Some to chapels. Some needs therapists. But I prefer to go to the cemetery. Not to grieve. But to stay alive and be grateful.

To remind myself that I’m alive, and that every day is a blessing.

P.S. — I’m documenting my everyday life here as a journal.

Yesterday I visited my father’s cemetery. I started visiting cemeteries more often now a days. Why ?

I captured my thoughts in today’s journaling.

Journal Date: June 20th, 2025. Time: 06:50 AM CST/CDT.