Granite angels with crumbling faces and broken wings. Headstones cracked by shifting earth. Chiselled names faded by the elements. Rusted iron fences leaning drunkenly against the wind, swathed in weeds trying to escape the dead beneath them.
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Wander through your local cemetery and evidence abounds of a time not long ago when Australians took their all-consuming real estate obsession with them to the grave.
But death's land grab - that long-running era when we laid our deceased to rest in plots of soil marked as their final address - is over. About three-quarters of Australians are now being cremated in a quiet revolution that almost nobody is talking about.
The rapid shift towards cremation - 30 years ago the figure was only one in three - is one of the most significant shifts in modern Australian culture. Yet like many things in our lives it has crept up on us almost unnoticed, largely due to two issues that once seemed grotesquely out of place when discussing death - convenience and cost.
Ashes are portable. You can scatter the remains of loved ones at their favourite beach, bury them beneath an admired tree or divide them among family members where, in all likelihood, they will rest forgotten on a mantelpiece or in a cupboard.
A more brutally practical reason, however, is that life has become expensive enough for the living and harder to justify for the dead. Reserving precious real estate for those who have passed away, particularly in our crowded cities and suburbs, costs thousands of dollars before factoring in the expense of headstones, ceremonies and maintenance.
Cremation comes at a fraction of the price. When mortgages, school fees and everyday living costs leave many families struggling, the economics of death begin to matter.
There is also an obvious cultural reason for the shift. We're a far less religious nation than we used to be. Church attendance has declined along with the expectation that burying someone in sacred soil improves their chance of resurrection. The modern funeral, with its videos, photographic slideshows and songs celebrating the life of the departed, is now less about theology and more about remembrance.
My wife and I are in the throes of updating our wills. She has opted to donate her body to science, perhaps in the belief that future technology will be able to determine why her brain prevented her from reading maps or having a solid sense of direction. I want to be cremated, a wish that, after such a poor joke, may be granted sooner than I think.
But if the business of death is becoming more flexible, something profoundly subtle is being lost along the way.
Cemeteries are honest places where the past is candidly available for all to see. I sometimes walk our dogs through a sprawling boneyard near our home, morbidly fascinated with the lives commemorated at my feet: soldiers cut down in distant wars, long-awaited infants who only lived for a handful of days, families destroyed and their faith tested by accidents, influenza and illness.
On weekends I often see the same elderly man sitting in a fold-down chair by his wife's grave, a thermos by his side, so absorbed with the need to tell her what he's been doing and how much he misses her that my glances feel so intrusive I have to look away.
Australia, of course, always had the luxury of space before its urban population exploded. People assumed a place beneath the grass to be permanent. In Europe and elsewhere population pressures mean graves are often leased, not owned. In many cases the dead are only guaranteed a century or less of occupancy before the lease expires, their bones removed to an ossuary while someone from a new generation takes their place.
We can mourn this move away from burials in favour of the furnace. But cremation seems entirely appropriate for our age. We've been shedding our cultural weight for years. Our music, books, and memories prompted by photographs are preserved in a small glowing rectangle that comfortably fits in our pocket.
Why should the body remain physical, enclosed in an expensive coffin beneath six feet of valuable earth, when modern life has become so weightless?
HAVE YOUR SAY: What's your choice - burial or cremation? What is the most unique funeral you've attended? Have you ever scattered someone's ashes? Email us: echidna@theechidna.com.au
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THEY SAID IT: "One of the great advantages of cremation - apart from all sanitary conditions - lies in the swift restoration to Mother Nature of the material elements comprising the physical and astral corpses brought about by the burning." - Annie Besant
YOU SAID IT: John reflected on finding peace in turbulent times - in books, hobbies, even mowing the lawn.
"I felt just like you do about Long Bright River," writes Marie. "I started watching it after having read a positive review and it swept me up in the story. For a similar emotional experience I recommend the British series River, starring Nicola Walker and Stellan Skarsgard, another series which won't ever leave your imagination."
Phil writes: "Your mention of book nooks struck a chord with me. My niece introduced me to them last year (and succeeded in having one appear under the Christmas tree for her). I'm a model train buff, so when I saw a Magic Train Station book nook on sale I leapt at the chance to try them out for myself. With strong Potter influences, it now sits on our bookcase, occasionally lit with a simple touch of the finger. Fingers which were admittedly a little sore after pressing all the pieces out of their flat-pack frames. I'm now on the lookout for another one to work on."
"It's early morning, still dark out, I'm drinking my coffee waiting for it to get light so I can go out to my pigeon loft," writes Murray. "After being a jockey and training racehorses in my younger days, I need something to care for, to train and fettle. So in my old age I have racing pigeons. Not a huge number, just a couple of dozen. Many have names, Billiondollarbaby, Diver, Baby Dot, Free Beer (because nothing goes faster than free beer), Tonto, Moppet ... I find peace and enjoyment out there, There is something nice about an animal sitting on your shoulder telling you all about it, while you clean out the shed and feed them. A pigeon puffing up with pride when you see an egg shell and put your hand under them to see the pair of tiny new ones."
Hilary writes: "I recently discovered the joy of jigsaw puzzles. A 1200-piece puzzle kept me occupied for half an hour a day over the Christmas-New Year break. Relaxing and immensely satisfying. It is now back in pieces for next time."
"The joys of the mundane," writes Sue. "Having to use my dominant hand to hold my walking stick for support, sweeping or mopping the floor takes significantly longer than it used to and was increasingly frustrating until I learned to laugh at what I probably looked like, wielding a broom with very little control. But I get your point, John. My silverwork provides me with some very soothing activities and also some which require intense focus. Both shut out thought or awareness or anything else - an escape from the idiocies of the world around us."
Jane writes: "I do find peace in small things. Walking on the beach, a pilates class and most recently complex paint-by-numbers, which loses me for hours at a time. Problem is, I have little hanging space on my walls for the finished items."
"My favourite hobby is reading and has been since I first learned to read," writes Helen. "It can take you anywhere you want to go - to the other side of the world, to times when life seems more orderly and not so out of control. To name a favourite book is a bit like being asked to name your favourite child or grandchild. Is it the book which makes you laugh, the one which reminds you of earlier, more peaceful times, the book which makes you think, or one which offers a future even more frightening than we expect?"
Liz writes: "When our world seems to be insanely spinning out of control, it's routines, the small mundane tasks of life and achievable projects that help reassure us that we still have some control. And, of course, the escape of a good book. Preferably an old favourite, because you know the ending."
