My Mom and Dad
and here in another cemetery - St. Mary Annes Episcopal , almost alien to both my mom and dad, as they were basically what they called down to the earth Nazerenes, but they are together for the days of the universe and here too a simple coil of wild Laurel commemorates my love - and my brothers love - for that sweetness that was my mom and that contradiction of black-and-white, caring-and-uncaring that was my father. Rest in peace
My Grandparents Tomb Stones - and Fresh Cut Wild Laurel
I never met any of my grandparents, they all but one - my mom's dad, who went to California before I was old enough to know who him - died before I was born. My father took me every Memorial Day to place wild Laurel on their graves in remembrance. And I have done it every May since my dad passed away - almost missed it this year because the 31st slipped away and Carol reminded me on Saturday that I forgot. The Laurel was almost flowered and gone but luckily I found a nice stand that had the flowers just bursting into full bloom and late in the afternoon placed them, loosely gathered, between the stones - rest in place William (Whistling Willie-my father said he was called) and Sarah
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