Mopsie Rabbit's Cemetery Memoirs: The Coyote and My First Tombstone Tuesday

Do you ever have this sense of forboding? I knew I wanted to do Tombstone Tuesday today but felt uncomfortable to go, with all the bravado I usually try to exhibit, to the cemetery by myself.

I know, I'll just take Emerson! This is my Boxer who actually has no idea he might be a dog.

However, it didn't even feel right to take him either, so I devised another plan.

I told Tony I needed to go to the pharmacy: True.
To pick up two items: True.
And then just pop by the cemetery on the way: True.

This is what I saw when I arrived at Old Hall Cemtery.

I feel ashamed of myself because I actually said, "Score!" only because I think it's very interesting how they install a vault and a casket in the ground.

However, seeing the name on the vault, Helen Boston- made me feel sad for her...

and her waiting family...

and the last vestige of flowers she would ever receive...

and the stark reality of this truck's somber job...

This was made even more real today as my General Manager just lost him Mom last night. That woman could be Michael's mother. But no, it was Helen Boston, born in 1919.

As I went through the cemetery and saw a man I had never seen before...

and imagined he would have made a wonderful friend or a kind uncle-

But between Helen and "Dude", I began to distract myself with some signs of fall...

When, what do you think but Mr. Crafty Coyote appeared?!

My husband began loudly and repeatedly honking the horn over and over. In the cemetery!

"Are you crazy? What's wrong with you?" I demanded.

This coming from the same man who, when I say, yes, I'll be ready in 20 minutes and am certainly not, merely waits patiently for me and utters, ne'r a word.

"I was trying to warn you- to get you in the car!"

"Oh."

And that's why my two beautiful flowers growing defiantly out of this grave, are blurry!