Thursday, June 1, 2017


The funeral that we attended last weekend was in a tiny cemetery that seemed to live in the forest. 
It smelled like the mountains and with the sounds of birds everywhere, offered a peaceful sense of comfort.
It was quite old,  with a Catholic side and a Protestant side.
The plots on Catholic side seemed to be  set out in more discernible rows. 
There were a variety of headstones.
Most seemed to be dated from the late 1800's and early 1900's and created from a variety of materials.
These were hard working people who often had come from somewhere else to make a life in the harsh land of the time.
Harsh, maybe, but oh so very beautiful.

This cross was erected in 1938 to the memory of the Italian man who brought water to the cemetery.

What a perfect place for Mr. and Mrs. Marshall's grave sites. 
In addition to the beautiful words spoken by their friend, this was also a military funeral.
Mr. Marshall had served his country on the landing days in Sicily, Utah Beach and North Africa. 
Listening to the rifle volley and the playing of Taps brought tears which didn't cease until the flag was folded and presented to Mr. Marshall's son.
Mr. and Mrs. Marshall had both been widowed after their children were grown and didn't meet until 1994.
They had a lunch date set up by mutual dear friends and the rest is history.
The kindness and love that they exhibited and shared with everyone they met was remarkable. 
I am blessed that they were part of my life ion even a small way.  

1 comment:

Michelle said...

a lovely post about lovely people