There are too many Dads in this cemetery

It’s a year ago now since I found the note from my Mum saying my half brother was dead. It was followed a couple of days later by my Mum’s Dad, my granddad, passing away. A pretty grim week for her all told.

The last year has flown by. During that time we have said to hell with you Malthus, and added our own beautiful baby boy to the world, and he has been a source of great joy to us.

As I stood there in the sunny cemetery at lunch time, insignificant bunch of flowers in my hand, it was the small,   non sequitur thoughts that seemed to dominate.

The blossom has fallen like a carpet over the grave;
After a year there should be more grass surely? It looks almost freshly dug;
Birthday cards. I didn’t even know when his birthday was;
It’s sunny. Why should it be sunny today of all days?
I see they’ve finished the Tesco Local opposite now. Shame they couldn’t have downed the power tools for the interment a year ago;
I’ve walked past three graves with DAD floral tributes to get to this one. He was a Dad too. There are too many Dads in this cemetery.

The cemetery on Hatfield Road is literally that, a cemetery almost right on Hatfield Road. It’s obviously popular as plots right up against the iron railing are being used now, and the one I was standing by was one of those. Funny how the noise seemed distant though, muffled and somehow unimportant.

Mourn the dead, care for the living though and my thoughts are with Mum today and this week.