You might think that this exercise is only sad and somber, but it's actually full of happy moments as I call to mind the folks I befriended in their final illnesses. One fellow had me take him out to hunt for wild mushrooms, and another taught me some bawdy music-hall songs. I still prepare Christmas cookies from a recipe one woman copied for me, and another woman regaled me with tales from Saratoga's speak-easy past. In short, we shared far more laughs than tears, although we shared those, too. My experience walking among the gravestones today was similar. Of course, it was sad to come upon the grave of one little boy who must have loved his kitty.
but then my laugh caught in my throat when I noticed how young this Dad was when he died. Did his children mean this gravestone to be a tribute? Or a warning?