​The Secret Lives Etched in Stone

​People often ask me what it's like to work at Eternal Care Stone Services. They imagine a quiet, somber job, and while there's certainly a peacefulness to it, they're missing the best part. For me, cleaning headstones isn't just about scrubbing away moss and years of grime; it's about uncovering stories. I'm a detective of the past, and every plot is a chapter waiting to be read.

​I've learned to look for the tiny details—the dates, the inscriptions, the little symbols that might seem like nothing to an outsider. It's in these quiet moments, armed with my brush and gentle cleaning solution, that I piece together the lives of people who lived generations ago.

​There was one family plot I'll never forget. The original stone belonged to a husband and wife. The wife's stone had an odd inscription, a mention of her passing shortly after the birth of their third child. A quick look at the smaller stone next to it confirmed my suspicion: a tiny infant's name and a date of death that matched her mother's. The father's stone, years later, simply read, "Beloved Husband and Father." No mention of a second wife. He never remarried. It was a heartbreaking but beautiful detail, a testament to a love so profound it lasted beyond death.

​The story didn't end there. I noticed a headstone a little further away, across a small walking path. It belonged to a woman with the same last name as the original couple. Her name was Mary. The dates lined up—she was their eldest daughter. Her stone was surrounded by her own family: a loving husband, and several children and grandchildren. It felt like a happy ending, a thread of life carrying on. The eldest daughter, Mary, had a wonderful family of her own and was buried across from her original family, as if she was keeping a watchful eye on them from a slight distance.

​Then there was the young man who died in his 30s. His stone was a simple military marker, but a small, worn inscription at the bottom said "A Doctor Who Cared." It told a whole story in just four words. I imagined his life: a son who went off to medical school, who came back home to care for his community, only for his life to be cut tragically short. His story, and countless others like it, would have been lost to time without these silent markers.

​So, yes, my job is to clean stones. But what I really do is unearth history. I restore dignity and remembrance, one headstone at a time. I help these silent chapters speak, and in return, they teach me the most profound lessons about life, love, and loss.