By Chuck Woodbury
I lost my father nine years ago. I still miss him. I have questions for him he can’t answer. Why didn’t I ask him before he died? I thought he would live forever.
As I have written before, I like to visit cemeteries, especially those in small towns. I know I will spend my eternity in such a place. Maybe I just want to be prepared. But, mostly, I think, I like to visit cemeteries because I enjoy peeking into the lives of those who departed before me. I like finding clues to who they were.
The grave above, of Robert Bryan Warne, made me sad. But it was okay, it was a good sad. I was happy that he was loved so much that his kids still tell him so. “Miss U Dad,” his child or children wrote on the wooden cross behind his headstone. Robert, a Korean War veteran, lived 64 years. I tried to find him on the Internet to learn more about him, but no luck.
I spent an hour at the Buffalo Cemetery just walking around. Two deer fawns fed on the neatly cut grass. There was no sign of their mother. It was a beautiful day, sunny in the 70s, quiet, peaceful. I felt calm as I drove away. I usually do.