Feeling sorry for yourself in a cemetery was a peculiar kind of callous. If all the bones and hair and nails and dust of each of the departed could come together into their respective bodies again, and their spirits return, most of them would probably trade places with you and your troubles for a little more time topside. Here was Lemuel Pickett, born in 1922, died in 1944 defending his country in France. He’d probably welcome your troubles for a few more years. Here was Baby Pickett, so much a baby that it hadn’t even been named, so short a life that the only thing on the headstone was Baby
...more
