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Page 15 · column 5 of 6 · from the scan, no model involved
But there’s satisfaction in the chore,
That we’ve not forgotten why we do this thing,
...to remember our dead once more.
The comment was made that if it wasn’t for the old ones no one would clean the graveyard. Keeping in mind that the four of us ranged in ages 46 to 70; two of whom were disabled with arthritis. This, although a hindrance, did not stop them, even one of the disabled lopped and touted, making me feel somewhat ashamed that I even asked them to go...that I could’ve done the whole job myself. But, there is satisfaction when you can do something.
Yes, we’ve assumed the guardianship, it seem, in keeping this place in order. No, we don’t worship the dead as is the case in some religions, but we think we are to remember them and honor that life that once was. This place is a shrine of sorts to us, for here lie five generations of our family. Although gone to the dust from which we came there only remains those stone monuments and tombstones with inscriptions of names and dates that remind us, now and then, that too soon this is our lot. Will we lie in un-remembered graves covered with a mangle of vegetation?
In leaving this place and those buried here, our memories flooded back to the last time we were here. Last fall. Then we were accompanied by my grandfather, Clyde, brother to Alice, my mother’s father. He has since departed but until the last he had that desire to not forget his beginnings, knowing his end.
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