Beside Every Good Man...

About four miles east of where Michael Wiedrich is buried, five cemeteries intertwine to form a massive 365 acre expanse that is now known as the Mount Calvary Cemetery Group. Within this group is the United German & French Roman Cemetery. It was here that Michael's wife, Maria was laid to rest nearly twenty years before her husband.

Interestingly, at the time of her demise, Roman Catholics were prohibited from being buried at Forest Lawn. Truthfully, I am not altogether sure that at the passing of his wife, Michael didn't intend to join her at this plot when his time came. Records indicate that it was Michael's son, Charles, who purchased the family plot at Forest Lawn, and likely saw to it that his father was interred there at a cost of $6 when he met his demise following a hemorrhage in 1899. While Catholics were not permitted at Forest Lawn, I don't know if the inverse was true: could non-Catholics be buried in the Catholic cemetery?

I wish I could say that Maria's resting place boasts a charming patina on its aging grave markers and structures. It didn't appear charming, only worn. In fairness, I imagine taking care of a crowded, centuries-old cemetery like this would be a daunting task. Looking over the facility, it appeared to me that the area likely looked far different in the days that Michael stood over her grave.

I noticed that Maria and Michael's daughter, Amelia, lay nearby, in a well-marked grave. Seeing her in such close proximity to her mother removed any misgivings I'd had about the place. There was warmth there, and tenderness; a mother cradling her child. Again, these were people, not memories. Maria whispering to her cooing daughter. I swear I heard it.

Then I did the math, and realized Michael had likely stood here, too, having buried his daughter not five years before he joined her on the other side.

Also nearby was Maria's father, Franz Anton Roth, whose monument would have been another foot taller had the iron core that held its cross in its perch not given way to the elements. I found the cross partially buried near the pillar and found what I felt was a more suitable location for it, in front of my great-great-great grandfather's grave marker.

 

Throughout the morning, I'd been considering returning to Michael Wiedrich's grave and placing flowers. Oddly, something bothered me about that thought, a sense that somehow the priorities weren't right. As I stood in this cemetery, over Maria's grave, I imagined Michael being present...at first as an elderly, bearded old war veteran...then as a 25 year-old newlywed. And that newlywed spoke to me, told me he'd received more than enough attention in life as well as death. He let me know his wishes and I knew what to do. So I did it, leaving Maria with a smile on my face, and hopefully on hers.

Maria Brigitta Roth Wiedrich