How cemeteries get creative to survive in their role of caring for the dead

As a teenager, I frequently walked to St. Stephen Cemetery after school to sit by my mom's headstone. She died in a car accident when I was 7 and I didn't confront what that meant for me until adolescence.

A local cemetery frequently hosts events and entertainment in their space, and it didn't sit with me well at first. It seemed flip. Disrespectful at the least. An exploitation of death at worst. It bothered me and I had questions. Luckily, I knew just who to ask.

Cole Imperi is not only a friend but a leader in the death community. She's a thanatologist, an expert on death and dying, and she is the president of the Board of Overseers for Historic Linden Grove Cemetery & Arboretum in Covington, Kentucky. Imperi helped me understand what I was missing. When a historic cemetery can no longer perform burials because they are full, how does the cemetery afford the maintenance and management of an expansive graveyard that's over 175 years old?

Whose budget carries the line item for a cemetery? I assumed it either fell on the municipality or whichever religious institution founded it. The truth is it depends. Some cemeteries, like St. Stephen, where my mom is buried in Kentucky, are the responsibility of the local Catholic Diocese. Other cemeteries have a more complicated history of ownership and disrepair. This requires a Board of Overseers that manages and operates a cemetery with possibly some funding from the city or county where it sits.

The next assumption I had to confront was that cemeteries are a somber place of mourning for everyone. That's simply not true. Many cemeteries have walking trails, and I know that kids love visiting cemeteries for their Pokemon stops and battle gyms. Events like movie nights and even Shakespeare productions are also common at our local cemetery. This is nothing new. Imperi was quick to say, "Cemeteries were our first parks." Historically, before we had museums and public parks, we had cemeteries. People would take quiet walks among beautiful sculptures. Families would picnic on the lush lawns, and there were even carriage races and hunting events held in cemeteries.

"Civic engagement and history connect in the cemetery," says Imperi. Linden Grove Cemetery is so close to both a hospital and the county administration building, for example, that many go there for their lunchtime walk on a nice day. The Pokemon activity even prompted a group of players to reach out to the cemetery and volunteer their time in appreciation. Also, on the hottest days of summer, thanks to green space, a cemetery can stay a whole 10 degrees cooler than surrounding urban streets. This provides those without air conditioning respite from the heat in a beautiful parklike setting.

My initial reaction was an emotional one, born of fear that stemmed from childhood trauma. My knee-jerk response was to internalize and judge. I'm glad I stopped and took the time to reach out to my friend to learn more. Not only did it ease my pain, but it gave me a different outlook on the cemetery experience. Our society likes to separate death from life as something of lore and gore, especially around Halloween time. But death is a part of life, not apart from life. We can honor that connection at our communities' cemeteries.