The Man by the Mausoleum

Cedar Hill Cemetery is about one and a half miles away from where I live. From time to time, when the weather permits, I hike there. Famous individuals such as John Pierpont Morgan Sr. (JP Morgan, financier) and Samuel Colt (inventor of the Colt revolver) call Cedar Hill Cemetery their final resting spots. The cemetery sits on a massive 270 acres of small rolling hills and running brooks. The mature trees and beautifully maintained landscaping adorn throughout the entire cemetery. I usually enter the cemetery through the main entrance, and the stone chapels on both sides of the gates exhibit European styled old cathedrals that seem to witness the passing of time. The magnificence of these stone chapels appear to signify how insignificant humans are in the tide of time. I especially enjoy my hike during Spring and Fall seasons as the entire cemetery puts on different dresses of splendid colors. The flower scents permeate the air during the blooming springtime while the vibrant colors during the Fall transform the cemetery into a mysterious woman with all different hues of eye shadows and mascaras in bright yellow, crimson red, and regal purple. From time to time, I get lost in my hike marveling at the beauty nature presents within this grand cemetery. 

However, even my delight and astonishment when I am in completely immersed in the scents and colors as I trek along the many curved paths are insignificant when compared to the times I meet and converse with Mario. I noticed Mario almost every time I walked around the cemetery. He was a quiet man sitting by himself at one of the several mausoleums that are sporadically erected within the boundary of the cemetery. The first few times I saw him, I paid little attention as I was seduced by the crisp air and the dopamine produced from the scenic walk. I would wave to him in the most brief of encounters and continue my walks without stopping. In Fall of 2021, I finally decided to stop and observe what this man was doing as I noticed that he was always sitting in the same spot at the same mausoleum every time. I introduced myself and told him that I admired his devotion to whatever he was doing as I noticed him there often. He introduced himself as Mario. He is a first-generation immigrant who came to the U.S. with his family from Italy. I asked him what the binder was that he always had with him. Mario told me that it was a photo album that contained pictures of his deceased wife. Our conversation was brief and I again told him that I admired his devotion to visit the mausoleum daily where his beloved wife Angela was entombed. Soon our encounters turned into longer visits and conversations, and I enjoyed hearing their love story tremendously as Mario shared with me details from their first meeting, courtship, marriage, children, and her battle with cancer before her passing. From every conversation I had with Mario, I felt that I also got to know Angela and their deep love. Even when the weather was less than ideal for a hike, I looked forward to my visits to the cemetery to speak with Mario and hear his recounting of the life he built with his wife, as each time my perspective regarding love, sadness, and true joy was enlightened and enriched.

After a while, I asked Mario's permission to record some of the events in their lives. I cherished all of their stories as he detailed how their love grew and endured challenges. One day I asked Mario, "Did you promise Angela that you would visit the mausoleum where she would rest after her death?" Mario replied that it was not something Angela asked him to do before she succumbed to the very persistent cancer. I then asked him if he set a goal to "visit her" daily after she passed away? Mario looked at me with a confused look and said, "No, I did not set a goal nor did I promise her anything of that sort. I visit her every day and look at the pictures of her where I was part of her life because that is who I am. I love my wife and the only day I was unable to come inside the cemetery and sit by the mausoleum was when a sign was posted at the gates to the cemetery saying that it was closed due to a severe snowstorm." Mario's response made me reflect on how one can achieve what they desire by being true to their identity. As Mario identified himself as the loving husband who would visit his wife's mausoleum daily, he never missed a day regardless of the circumstances. Even when he was unable to enter the cemetery due to the winter storm, he was determined to drive in the heavy snow to the gates. I admire Mario and have learned much from his example about how to be true to one's identity.

I have collected a good number of recordings of Mario recounting his life with Angela. I hope that I will be able to create a themed series of blog posts from these that detail their love and devotion to each other. If this peaks your interest, please comment whether these posts are something you would look forward to reading.

Jason Chen, PhD