Don't Talk to Strangers

I went to visit Gary today; it’s been 3 months since his burial, and the damned tombstone still isn’t there.  No matter, I told myself – I know approximately where he is buried.

 

Turns out visiting the general vicinity of a grave isn’t quite the same.  I stood there, on the open grass, wondering if he was underfoot or if I was talking to strangers, disrupting their eternal slumber.  Although given Gary’s penchant for talking to strangers, he might have been amused.

Perhaps this will get easier when I know exactly where he is.  At least for the strangers who will be able to rest undisturbed.