Beryl, like death, is supposed to be permanent.

The process and tradition has a weight of finality to it.

The very act of placing our dead in a hole in the ground and then covering them with pound

after pound of heavy damp soil, well, it's one of the most powerful metaphors in everyday

life.

When we bury our dead, we bury the past.

We dig deep and place something precious, someone precious, out of reach from society.

In the vast majority of the time, we do all of this in graveyards, a place that is itself

viewed as sacred and set apart.

Beryl, for a huge portion of the world, is the end.

Graves, for as eternal as they seem, are sometimes disturbed.

Most of the time, the buried are unburied by accident.

We assume this when we talk about ancient burial sites in places like Rome or Jerusalem,

often as a result of modern construction projects and development of long abandoned property.

For example, the Gurkin in London, stands on the site of the 1600-year-old grave of a

girl from the Roman era of the city.

The remains of King Richard III were found in 2012 beneath a parking lot in the city of

Lester.

And just last year, a similar site was discovered beneath the portion of New York University,

but sometimes, the dead are just disturbed.

But sometimes, though, it's on purpose, in ancient times, the goal was often grave-ropping.

Nearly all of the tombs in the Valley of the Kings in Egypt were robbed of their treasures

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