Actually, it was from not-quite Nashville to not-quite Memphis. In Tennessee, we took the three hour drive out to our family cemetery to visit the graves of my family members, including my Aunt Frances.It's a strange thing, having a family cemetery. In a regular cemetery you don't know anyone, or you know only a few people. And the dates seem to progress in some sort of order... in THIS cemetery... well, I still knew only a few people. Two of them, actually. The other family members whose names I recognize died before I was born. But still, I know that I am somehow related to every single person buried there. Including the young man with a giant cowboy boot full of flowers on his grave, and the plaque honoring his achievements as a hunter.
It was rough trip out, mainly because Betty had decided to move heavy furniture herself just before we arrived, and hurt her back. So after visiting Frances we had to find a motel so she could lie down. This meant that we were kind of stuck there, with nothing for the boys to do, until the next morning.
Anyway, next time I go I might actually take some pictures. It just never occurs to me while I'm there. A bit morbid and I'm usually distracted...
1 comment:
O, no, I love cemetaries! After all, we're all bound to end up there sooner or later. So take the pictures next time! I see the boys are busy riding in the ...is that a wheelbarrow? Is Nick pulling them around the garden? Well, it seems everyone had a good time despite the travel travails!
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