Living Near Cemeteries in North America

Living Near Cemeteries in North America

After bidding farewell to my thriving and prosperous homeland, I journeyed through the bustling, skyscraper-filled streets of Hong Kong and settled in the flower-filled, picturesque environment of Singapore. It was here that my journey of living abroad began. Later, I moved to Edmonton, Canada, where I experienced the Western way of life.

Unlike the towering buildings and luxurious condominiums we once lived in, Edmonton offered the serenity of a countryside, unpolished natural landscapes, and a simple, honest community spirit that left a lasting impression on us. Before I arrived, my boss had kindly rented a basement suite in a house for me. The landlord was a warm and friendly Ukrainian lady, and next to her property was a cemetery. In the mornings, I could sometimes hear dogs barking in the distance.

One day, the landlady invited me to take a walk in the park, which unexpectedly led us into the cemetery. Blanketed in snow, it was solemn and tranquil. I was so nervous that I couldn’t stop trembling. Trying to mask my discomfort, I told her it was very cold. Sensing my fear, she reassured me with a smile: "Don’t worry. The people buried here were all good people. They won’t harm you."

For her, living near the cemetery provided peace and quiet, a concept I found difficult to comprehend as someone from the East, where such an arrangement would be considered unusual.

Years later, due to work, we moved to a charming little village in the United States. Coincidentally, our Bible teachers—Randy and Cheryl, a kind-hearted, middle-aged American couple—also lived near a cemetery. Randy worked from home, and Cheryl, who had retired early due to health reasons, enjoyed a peaceful rural life with him. On weekends, their home became a gathering place for international students. We would share meals, study the Bible, and attend English conversation classes they offered voluntarily.

Over time, as I spent more time with Randy and Cheryl, I came to understand that their faith in God gave them a unique perspective. They believed that when people pass away, they go to heaven. Living next to those who had already “met God” wasn’t something to fear—it was, instead, a way to experience a deeper sense of peace.

For Randy and Cheryl, and others who share this belief, the cemetery wasn’t a symbol of death, but of hope, faith, and the promise of eternity. This mindset was a profound and enlightening realization for me, shaping how I began to see life and death in a new light.