Some mute inglorious Milton

I wandered lonely as a cloud, in a graveyard full of bright black marble because it was close to All Soul's and Momma insisted I tag along. Ivan and Julie were ready and willing, but without me, it would have been three. And three is unlucky. Or so my mother thinks.

So there I was the reluctant grave visitor:

Romeo: Come now man, the hurt cannot be much...
Malvolio, or maybe it was Mercutio: Look for me tomorrow, you will find me a grave man...

The family graves are all sort of clumped together - the two grandfathers, an aunt, a few relations, some friends. Of course, the strangers' graves were more interesting. Like that woman who died at 79, who brought up six children on her own. Her husband, 21 years older, had left her a widow at 40 during the Japanese occupation. Most were those who had lived a rich full life, at least I think they did, anyway, they were old, so maybe, more ready to go. There were some very young ones, like Roland, who died when I was still at school. Run over by a lorry. He was but 14.

And then there was this:

Beneath rests our only child Thambi
Fond memories of a mere 20 years
Can only be treasured
Each day passes in agony
Still pondering why our only Joy
Hope and Future pillar of strength
Had to be taken away
So early in life
Whatelse to give except our tears
To hear those endearing words
"Anyi and Amma:
Bleeding hearts wil not heal
Till we embrace you Dear Son.

I felt a catch in my throat.

And then it started to pelt with rain.

So we left.