When I was in Rio Rancho for Dylan's graduation, I snuck off with my brother Andy to snap pictures of a local graveyard. Andy has always had a love of shooting things of such as graveyards and statues honoring the dead -- things which many tend to ignore. He has an eye for seeing what we would normally try not to see, or would otherwise ignore. Finding beauty in the old, long-forgotten stone guardians that punctuate an old graveyard such as the one we shot at.
There was a family there at the time, presumably visiting a relatives's grave. We made sure and waited respectfully for the family to leave before starting to shoot, and were always hyper-vigilant to not tread on actual graves or disturb or deface anything.
The graveyard was in pretty poor shape. Weeds growing everywhere, Christmas decorations left up, dirt that had been washed away by seasons of rain, threatening to disturb those resting there.
I think memorial (particularly religious) art and statues such as these are some of the oldest forms of art, and by definition hold more meaning than most contemporary forms. Whether the statues are there to guard the dead, ward away evil spirits or to simply honor those resting there; those silent, well-weathered witnesses speak more to the fragility of the memory of our loved ones than its resiliance.