We are born destined to die.
Recently my husband has finished his ancestral tree. So, we made plans to visit some of his great grandparents’ stomping grounds. To visit the cities and towns they found comfortable enough to call home.
This quest has been enlightening. Most places are so remote that the word self-sufficient comes to mind. Yet, so many of my husbands relatives begged to be known. Their headstones scream notice me. And so do many others. I noticed that people don’t want their loved ones or themselves to be forgotten.
Big grave markers that deteriorate. Few words that weather and fade. A marker of them existing here, in this area.
A mark if their mortality.
