I hate that I've become one of those old men who visits a cemetery to be with his dead wife. When I was {much} younger I used to ask Kathy what the point would be. A pile of rotting meat and bones that used to be a person isn't a person anymore; it's just a pile of rotting meat and bones. The person is gone-off to heaven or hell or wherever or nowhere. You might as well visit a side of beef. When you get older you realize this is still the case. You just don't care. It's what you have.
The narrator reflects on the changes that come with aging, particularly the emotions connected to visiting a cemetery. In his youth, he questioned the meaning of honoring the deceased, viewing the remains merely as lifeless matter. This perspective seemed practical and devoid of sentiment as he likened it to visiting an inanimate object. However, with age, he acknowledges that he has become one of those individuals who still find solace in such visits, despite understanding the physical reality of death.
As he matures, although he still maintains his original belief that the body is no longer the person, he recognizes that emotional bonds persist beyond death. Visiting his wife's grave offers him a sense of connection, highlighting how aging alters one's perspective on love and loss. While the philosophical questions remain unchanged, he has accepted the emotional necessity of these rituals as a way to cope with his grief and cherish the memories of those he has lost.
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