As much as the idea of being buried gives me the heebs, I love going for a walks in pretty, old cemeteries. Strangely, there is one kinda-sorta near our house that I hadn't yet visited, so tonight I decided to rectify that situation.
Isn't it amazing how many questions can arise from a headstone? For example, who is leaving fresh flowers for Elizabeth Watkins, who died over 60 years ago? Who is buried under the headstone that's been rubbed blank by time and the weather? Did the mama and baby we found with the same death date die in childbirth, or in some other way?
But, on the other end of the spectrum, isn't it incredible how much of a person's story can be told with just a few words and dates?
