I don’t believe in the supernatural – I’m not convinced that a shiver down your spine is the feel of a stranger’s footsteps traipsing across your future grave or that a sneeze is a spirit crossing your path.
Those little arching mounds of rock that so many of us bypass every day encapsulate an entire life in just a few phrases. And what’s more, they have been carefully thought up by the ones who knew and loved those people the best – the people that will probably miss them the most.
Take the time to read them and some will tell the tragedy of a missed opportunity to make amends. Others - scribed in the darkest hours of grieving – will question how life can possibly continue.
The reality is that it all comes down to a few lines on a headstone. I don’t have first-hand memories of the people whose stories I come across – I never knew them in order to forget them but I very much doubt that their lives were forgettable.
In due course, once the authors of a loved one’s epitaph have had their own written for them, the significance of their words lies in the hands of the oblivious stranger who stands before their grave by chance. One day someone will be staring at my own. Will they take the time to remember me?