Not even a skeleton.

It was eerie. Entering the catacombs. Seeing skeletons. Almost 2,000 years old. Made me think I’d rather be cremated. Incinerated. Into dust or powder. Rather than be unearthed 2,000 years hence. For viewing of my skeletal remains. Though it probably doesn’t matter. My spirit left my body. Long, long ago. Maybe into another dimension. Far from Mother Earth. Far from any cemetery or catacombs. So why should I care what happens to my bones? I walked through the catacombs below the Basilica of St. Antiochus in Antioco in Sardinia. Last Sunday. An interesting sojourn, to say the least. The catacombs of St. Antiochus developed around the crypt of the patron saint in the Isle of Sant’ Antioco at the beginning of the 3rd Century. I read a brochure informing me that the catacombs represent the very first evidence of Christianity in Sardinia. The catacombs are a part of the vast area of the Phoenician necropolis dating from the 6th Century BC. Yes, that’s some 2,600 years ago. My gawd, I thought, I’m going back to ancient time. And some day it’ll be 2,600 years in the future. I wonder what life will be like then. Certainly, there won’t even be a trace of me. Not even a skeleton. –Jim Broede