We found a welcoming seat in the middle of the cemetery and were happy to rest upon it.
Crisp, my aged companion had dragged me out to the burial ground as she had a fascination for such places.
“I don’t want to be buried,” she said, “look at all these headstones, neglected, forgotten and going to ruin. We can’t even read the inscriptions they are so weathered.”
I could see what she was getting at.
“Cremate me and throw my ashes anywhere you want, even in the garden if that’s convenient,” she announced.
“You won’t be forgotten,” I said to her.
“I will you know, people forget, generations come and go. Who were these people? No one knows. I doubt if anyone cares now.”
“I see your point. I have had similar feelings.”
“I’ll spread your ashes over the vegies patch. Perhaps that way you can grow a decent tomato.”