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Your tombstone stands among the rest; neglected and alone. The name and dates are chiseled out on polished, marble stone. It reaches out to all who care; it is to late to mourn. You did not know that I exist; you died and I was born.
Yet each of us are cells of you in flesh, in blood, in bone. Our blood contracts and beats a pulse not entirely on our own. Dear Ancestor, the place you filled one hundred years ago. Spreads out among the ones you left who would have loved you so.
I wonder as you lived and loved, I wonder if you knew that someday I would find this spot, and come to visit you. - AUTHOR UNKNOWN
I AM NO LONGER ABLE TO CONTRIBUTE TO FINDAGRAVE DUE TO A STROKE, I WOULD HOWEVER LIKE TO REMAIN A MEMBER AS I LIKE TO SHARE FG WITH GENEALOGY GROUPS ON FB AND REQUEST PHOTOS WHEN NEEDED