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Each year I think of those who’ve left us and gone on. I hold them in my thoughts and visit when I can.
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I go out of respect and because I feel a certain comfort quietly walking through the lovingly placed stones. And if the cemetery is old enough I often learn a bit of the history that surrounds it.
All carved stones share their stories with us, Here two sisters were buried within a year and a half of each other, one not quite grown and the other so young life had hardly started. They died just after the First World War ~ did the Pandemic take them?
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In another cemetery, score after score of stones ~ all young men and women. All never to grow old, lost in the span of so many wars.
Some graves are well remembered, others hardly kept. All are waiting ~ so still.
Back before the turn of the previous century there was a practice of planting roses near the stones. It was a good practice, done out of love and respect. Perhaps we should restore it once more. So that we never forget to remember.
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