It may be strange but I love wandering through old cemeteries. I wonder what illness went through the community when tombstones have death dates around the same time, and grieve when there is a mother and child with the same death date…possibly because of a bad pregnancy. You can learn so much about a community from the graveyard.
My sisters, however, don’t share the same love of cemeteries. One sister still complains about the time I dragged her around my hometown cemetery when she was young. Another one refuses to go to Ireland with me because she doesn’t want to spend her time going through graveyards. (I only wanted to see 2 of them).
My hometown of Fort Frances, Ontario has a big, old cemetery that fascinates me. Just knowing my ancestors are buried there draws me to it. It’s right beside the river and has lots of trees. Due to erosion, 2 family members, Harriet and Robert Jerry had to be moved to the newer cemetery.
But my favourite place is the Devlin/Lavallee Cemetery or the Devlin Cemetery or Lavallee Cemetery. It’s name depends on which village you lived it. It has the remains of my father’s granddad, Henry Miller and his wife Margaret McCall, some of their children, and Margaret’s siblings. It also has the ashes of my mother. Most people wouldn’t understand but it feels like home there, especially since I knew many of these people.
It’s in the country on a small hillock. It is here that I would like to be buried.