Ryne

Once was a handsome man who stood tall and proud. He was always happy, which we soon discovered was a lie that was covered up by this incredible smile and goofy laugh that could light up any room. This man loved the game of baseball along with hunting and fishing. In general, he just loved being in the outdoors. Another one of his favorites was partying and hanging out with friends and family. Women adored him, and his buddies were jealous. This one of a kind had so much going for him.
On the early morning of April 12, 2007 my best friend Ryne Jordan Hoaglund made the choice of committing suicide. This day is forever embedded in my heart, along with all the many unforgettable memories. At first I didn’t believe any of the rumors that were being spread around school, thinking it was Ryne; the happiest person I knew, until the principal called me out of class and broke the devastating news to me. My emotions were indescribable, as I didn’t know how to react or what to think. Pictures of his dead body flashed through my head, I instantly became nauseated and left school. I sat in my car for hours that day, crying uncontrollably thinking how Ryne was the definition of a perfect friend. He was always there for me, in many more ways than one. I couldn’t get it through my head as to what would have motivated him to do this. Suicide is something I knew of but I never had to deal with first hand. Although it has only been a mere six months, it has felt like an eternity. Not having him here has put a heavy burden on everyone he left behind. What hurts the most is knowing that this could have been prevented; he just made the choice of not talking to anyone about his problems and choosing the easy way out of life. I know I will see him again someday, as for right now I just thank God that I gained the best guardian angel I could ask for.

Wyuka Cemetery

The thought of walking on top of thousands of dead bodies sends a chilling rush down my spine,
a sense that I’m being watched over by the ghosts that call Wyuka Cemetery home. The thirty mile per hour winds grab a hold of the plethora of trees that hover above me, the air whistles and dead leaves twirl around my feet. Feeling alone and out of place, I decide to follow an old cracked brick road for my exploration.
As I begin my journey, my eyes are quickly drawn to a magnificent seven foot tall statue, the headstone to what looks like a husband and wife. The marble pillars hold my attention. The amount of money that someone had to have spent on it amazes me. Wyuka Cemetery is filled with many abstract and original graves. As I look around every gravestone is different; ranging in colors, shapes, and sizes. Although most of the colors were somewhat dull and boring, they made the place feel comfortable and relaxing. Some of my favorite shapes of the gravestones were the ones that had unique statues resting above the caskets. Others had animals or odd looking humans, making the headstone look more expensive and high class. But they all have something in common. Each and every gravestone represents a little bit about the person lying under there. Some have quotes engraved; others have pictures stenciled on the headstone of their favorite hobbies, animals, or family.

The wind becomes stronger, freeing the leaves from the trees. Wyuka Cemetery seems as it goes on for miles, protected by a fancy black gate guarding the dead. This funeral home is a welcoming business, filled with inviting colors and much-needed comfort. From a distance, I watch a large family enter the Funeral home, heads facing the concrete ground, seeming unable to face their pain. A beautiful bird soars over me snatching my attention. It settles on a hidden gravesite under an old willow tree. I move closer and feel protected by the family of trees. The bird hums with the wind and rests in the nest under the grave of Mary Davis, which is covered with fresh flowers and ‘happy birthday’ balloons. I whisper a quick prayer and wish her a happy birthday.
My thoughts wander as I’m walking through Wyuka Cemetery. I question life and death, heaven and hell, ghosts and angels. I try to change my state of mind as I realize I will never have the answers to my questions. From a near distance I see a family of three gathered around a grave. From behind a large tree, I watch from a distance. The woman is kneeling, her hands folded as if she is praying, her head droops down, tears rolling from her face. The man is standing a midst; he wears no emotion. A little boy is at his mother’s side comforting her in the best way he knows how. So many thoughts clutter my brain as to what might have happened to the loved one they lost.

I move on, drawing closer to the main street, to my right cars are whizzing by, warm exhaust blowing in my face. To my left is this slow paced world where no one or anything is in a hurry. The Wyuka Cemetery is very calm, a place where I now feel comfortable. The beautiful array of flowers freshen the air and brightens up the dull, gloomy cemetery, letting me feel relaxed. As I continue to wander through Wyuka Cemetery I come to realize that death is a very important aspect of life. We will all be affected by the tragedy someday, sometime, somehow. In reality death is not cheap. The costs for digging the holes, caskets, headstones, and many other behind the scene costs add up and may leave a strenuous burden upon the family, leaving not only a hole in their pockets, but in their hearts as well.
As I’m making my way around the entire cemetery I am imagining a cemetery to be similar to an art gallery. They are both respectable places in our community that is welcome to the public where we can go and observe or commemorate. In both concepts people are viewing something; sculptures, paintings, headstones, abstract art, which in turn will always have the public thinking. An art gallery is full of different paintings or different sculptures that show a part of who the artist is. Similar to a cemetery where every gravestone is different giving hint to viewers a brief insight on whom that person was.
Just imagine if cemeteries would have never been created, and all our passed loved ones were just crushed and thrown away somewhere. I think death would be a lot harder for society to cope with not having a place where we can always turn to for remembrance, hope and prayer. Wyuka Cemetery makes a difference in our community in ways people tend to forget about. I can argue that most of us pass this cemetery often, not realizing the depth and meaning. This place may be a second home to some people or the only place they can turn to for hope, faith and love.
In the past I have always had a hidden fear of visiting a cemetery. I have experienced many losses of people I care about in my short period of life. Whenever I go to any cemetery, the rush of emotions hits me like a hundred bricks, taking me back to a time I don’t want to remember. Coming here has alleviated some of this pain, making me understand that having a cemetery is an important part of the community, only trying to help us as a community remember who were a great part of our lives.