When I was about 10, I would ride my bike to the local cemetery & wander around by myself, reading the inscriptions on the markers. (I can't imagine any child being allowed to bicycle off by themselves today, let alone to a cemetery, but I digress...) My best friend had a baby sister buried there, and I would often stand beside her grave and wonder what she would have been like. (Her mother was one of the first people to call me when we lost Katie.)
When dh & I were first married, our apartment backed onto Mount Pleasant, a huge cemetery in midtown Toronto. We would take long walks on its winding paths, marvelling over the elaborate crypts -- some of them as big as houses -- where some of Canada's leading families rest (the Masseys, the Eatons, the Westons...).
Being interested in genealogy, I'm always up for a cemetery ramble, particularly when an ancestor is involved.
And since Katie's stillbirth, there has rarely been a week where we haven't paid at least a brief visit to the cemetery where her ashes are interred.
Some of the best places I know to enjoy the fall colours at their prettiest are cemeteries -- especially the older ones with big old trees. Case in point: here's a picture from a ramble dh & I took yesterday through an older local cemetery (not the one where Katie is). Nice, huh?
|That's dh on the left. :)|
You can find more of this week's #MicroblogMondays posts here.