Neighbors

During my trip to see my #$#% Granny, I stopped briefly at the small, country cemetery where my Ninnie and Papa are buried. There are 244 markers in the cemetery that is located in a town with a population of 8 (seriously.) About 25 of the stones mark my own flesh and blood. Names of people I have met, and some of people I've heard stories about. Names like Mary Leigh, Myrtle Retha, Sampson Belvin, Estella Ophelia, and Nannie P. This cemetery is so neatly maintained, and on this day, Confederate flags were flying by about 60 of those markers. This guy (above) is on the row next to my grandparents. The Civil War seems so long ago in our minds, but it's so bizarre to think that my grandparents are buried next to a Captain from Company G of the Missouri Guards in the Confederate States Army. How long must the plots around him have been waiting? Well, I guess since 1936, judging by the dates on the stone, huh? Still, I could stay there all day reading the headstones. The older they are, the more they tell. Some of them are like stories straight from the pages of history describing who the person was, what they succumbed to, and who loved them. About 2 sections over from my grandparents, there are entire families that were wiped out from, I suppose, the influenza of the early 1900's.
Sometimes you just feel so small.