The weekend just gone I took a trip to Heywood, a small country town where my parents grew up and where I was born. My cousin Bec was having her 18th birthday party. There are no photos to show you from the party - I'm afraid I may have made a fool of myself a bit while trying to get teenagers to get up and dance! But hey, I livened things up a little. Or so I thought...maybe not. Hhhm...
The kids and I went with Mum yesterday morning to the little local cemetery to say hello to her Dad, as well as the numerous other members of family buried there.
|My great-great-great grandparents|
I know it's probably not really appropriate to be taking photos at a cemetery, but I just find them so fascinating! I look at the gravestones and find myself wondering what that person was like, if they had children, how they died. I feel so sad for them.
The children's graves are the worst. I remember being a kid and feeling so sad for these children who had died so young. Of course now that I have kids of my own, I can't help but feel the heartbreak of their parents.
I think of the people buried under the really old gravestones who may not have any family left to remember them. No one left who misses them. That will be me one day. In 100 years time who will remember me? I'll be long forgotten.
They had lives just like ours, with family and friends. With their homes. With things they loved to do! Now it's nothing but a distant memory. To someone.
Or maybe to no one.