It's funny how the very place that supposedly represents the tragedy of death is one which breathes a kind of tender sacredness. Almost tranquil, one which whispers the mysteries of what the other side of eternity might be.

We laid grandpa's bones and ashes here to rest, his soul on that other side. Still, as I walked among the headstones of these other strangers, I could only wonder what stories they lived out.

I see these names, the dates of their passing - 2009, 2010...I was but a boy fooling around in school, oblivious. Funny to know these stories which ran parallel to mine; the world seems so small. Still I see the decorations and writings left behind by their loved ones - these dead strangers meant something to them.

It only reminds me - although we die, we still live. Each person is a soul to be loved with a story to tell. So even should the body fade, their soul remains loved and their story not forgotten.