David McElroy

A man pulled up in a white SUV and got out at a fresh grave. There was a funeral tent that covered both the grave and the collection of flowers that were obviously new.

The man didn’t look at me and didn’t seem to pay attention to anything else. His suit was what we might have once called his “Sunday best.” He looked somber and his only thoughts seemed to focus on a hole in the dirt where a loved one had been placed to rest today.

All of as sudden, I felt as though I was intruding just by being in the cemetery. I was there to take sunset photos, but this stark hill suddenly seemed more like a sanctuary or at least sacred ground.

I was about a hundred feet from the man and I remained quiet and still. After he stood next to the grave for a few minutes, he got back into his SUV and slowly drove off. As I stood there in the stillness — as it got darker and darker — I found myself disturbed that I had no idea whose body had been laid to rest in that hole.

And that felt completely wrong.

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We spend much of our lives hiding from each other — and then we wonder why nobody knows us.

We grow up in a culture that teaches us to project just the right image. If we wear the right clothes, drive the right car, live in the right house and have the right job, we will finally be accepted. We can stay inside our suit of armor but still have people see how perfect our facade looks.

But when we do that, we still feel empty and alone. So we harden ourselves and try to prevent feeling anything. If we’ll just double down on success and looking great, we will finally be enough one day. That’s what we hope.

Authenticity is rare today. So when we find someone who feels like the “real deal,” we’re drawn to him or her, even if we can’t quite understand why.

We are so accustomed to seeing facades — shells that protect fragile hearts that have been repressed — that we are shocked when someone is authentic and expresses truth in a way that makes a voice inside us say, “I thought I was the only one who felt that way!”

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