My Namesake

This morning my sister and I will head to the cemetery to say a quick hello and then go to my parents house to start cleaning things out. We  both felt that we did not have enough time there when we were at the funeral. I am also going to take a picture of the "watching" stone, as I have named it. Although I go to the cemetery a few times a year and I do look at the stones, I never noticed one. As I was leaving the area after the funeral, my son pointed out a stone. The woman's first name was my first name. The husband's first name was my last name. There it saw, etched in stone. My name. Feet away from my parents, watching over them.