Unlimited Plan (*)

Meeting in a cemetery, what a weird idea...

10

Toronto, Canada

Mount Pleasant Cemetery in Toronto comes across nothing like the dull and enclosed concept of European graveyards. Here, no high dark and sinister walls, but rather an airy fence that allows views to pass through. No straight gravel paths dividing neatly aligned long gray or brown marble tombstones neither. In fact, if a triangle if often used to build the large North American cities, with a striking geometric contrast compared to the winding little streets of European capitals, their cemeteries, on the other hand, are real parks. Wide tarred avenues wander through well-maintained greenery. Passersby stroll leisurely, shielded from the sun by the foliage of numerous trees, venerable and some imported from distant lands. Classic old continent horizontal tombstones seem rare. Here, a simple stele suffices to welcome engravings without the necessity of a long slab. All sizes, all colors, and several types of rocks thus receive varied epitaphs from all denominations.

Besides its North American aspect, Mount Pleasant Cemetery feels quite unique by its situation. It is hilly, bordering a few ravines and other parks that constitute Toronto's "green belt." A verdant valley that flows for miles and of which the cemetery appears as a natural extension. Thick, well-maintained grass simply covers many graves. One wanders from stele to stele without fearing the taboo of walking on a tomb. In the avenues, regulars jog, parents stroll their newborns in prams, students read peacefully, sitting on benches, all amid families mourning their lost loved ones.

The extent and tranquility have allowed forest wildlife to reclaim its rights. The dull fur of the inevitable squirrels contrasts with the bright red or blue of cardinals and blue jays. More surprisingly, a few groups of raccoons and coyotes have made their home in this green valley. They can sometimes be spotted at dawn or dusk in the cemetery's remote areas.

Near one of the ravines entrances, in the higher part of the burying ground, are the commemorative plaques for those cremated, who own neither a grave nor a stele. Around a wide artificial multi-tiered fountain, embedded in the parapet or on a low wall, line up hundreds of bronze frames. They appear no larger than a standard sheet of paper, on which families have been able to have a final word, a phrase, or a drawing engraved in memory of their dear departed.

Although English in origins, Brian Wessler was nonetheless a Canadian at heart, and his wife decided to place a plaque in his name here, while his ashes would be scattered upstream of the Thames.

For a week, Jeremy had stayed with Sarah to provide all the possible support through the painful preparations she had to endure. They organized the funeral and cremation together. Jay had each time offered a solid shoulder for the widow to dry her tears. Sarah had drawn on her strength of character day after day, and with her friend's presence, she had gradually regained her composure. The placement of the commemorative plaque represents for her a final gift to her husband's memory. For farewells, she had now accepted. For a mourning that, far from being over, would nevertheless continue with more serenity.

She stands, tall and proud, in front of the wall where one of the cemetery's employees is about to remove the small somber burgundy velvet curtain that shields the newly sealed plate from view. No ceremony, Sarah wanted an intimate moment. Only the closest Canadian friends were invited to the cremation, and the English family will be gathered for the ashes scattering. But for the commemoration plaque's unveiling, she only wished for Jeremy to be by her side. For the occasion, she wears a discreet dark city dress and let her hair down in the natural mane her husband so appreciated. He still has his ponytail tightly tied and is sporting jeans, a black blazer over a white T-shirt, and a pair of sneakers the same color. "Because that's how Brian saw you," Sarah had told him. "I don't expect Jay to wear a suit, even for his own funeral." Her spouse once joked.