Five Minute Friday: Headstones and House Numbers

I always hated visiting cemeteries as a child. The people I loved weren’t there, so why go? But as an adult I felt differently about it. I took my husband to visit the graves of my Aunt Sue and my grandfather. It was just a place to remember and talk about the people who were important to me. He won’t get to meet them this side of heaven, but I wanted a place to tell the important stories. How my Aunt Sue loved to dance and that my grandfather used to whistle on the phone. When we visit his hometown my husband drives me by the house he grew up in. The house he lived in when his parent’s got divorced. The happy part of his life that he barely remembers, and some horrible years he wishes he didn’t. But we drive by anyway and he tells me about how he walked to school and points down the street to his elementary school. He shares memories of riding bikes with his friends and comments on how small the house looks now. These are our roots. The places that we grew before we were transplanted to where we are now.

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