A fine and politely public place

We took a trip up to Dad's grave for Father's Day, buying flowers on the way. At the cemetery, there was a steady trickle of like-minded folks arriving to lay blooms and quietly pay their respects. It was nice, actually.

 

All four of my grandparents are interred in this same graveyard. It makes sense the families are together in one town or otherwise my parents may never have met as young townies. Even so, two of their oldies were from a country area a couple of hours away, one from tropical Queensland and the last from South Island, New Zealand - how did they all end up HERE?

On the return drive, we stopped at our favourite pie shop for an early lunch. We talked about how much Dad would have enjoyed what we were eating. We say stuff like that most days. We don't need Father's Day to remind us he's gone, but it was a good excuse to do something special.