So I went to a famous cemetery in Brooklyn, yes that one. The Green-Wood Cemetery. I went in search of finding an Amina in the hopes that I could maybe take away some lesson or learn how to live better in the moment.
I went in August 2024. I searched for her in the online directory, wandered through the ornate mausoleums and manicured lawns, found her there in the neglected section where the weeds were overgrown closest to the main road.
I wonder if cemeteries were designed by the dead instead of the living, how different they would be. Designed by the living, they reflected the same material trappings of life. I reflected on Oscar Wilde’s poem about how death must be so beautiful, to be able to finally let go of all the aches of life and know true peace. I really envied the dead in this moment.
My Amina died in 1871, it is unknown when she was born. Maybe she was a baby, maybe she was a woman in her late 20s like me. She definitely didn’t know a girl with her name 150 years later would be remembering her. It’s a really trippy concept. I wonder how long ago her last visitor was; the ones who would have visited her were long dead.
I wonder if a lonely girl 150 years from when I’m buried will come to visit me at my final resting place. I think I would like that. And her name doesn’t even have to be Amina.