I grabbed a few minutes over lunchtime today to take a jaunt over to Spring Lake Cemetery.
With camera and notebook in hand, I braved a raw, cold wind and sleet to hunt for stories. What caught my eye, and my breath, were the crushingly sad stories of children who never grew up. And although aware of the high infant mortality rates in the 1800s, it's heartbreaking to see how many families lost more than one child in death.
I can't even begin to imagine the pain of a parent burying a child. We parents just weren't built that way. And the empty space and silence continued for these families long after their children were buried. I'm humbled by their strength and endurance, and I offer this tribute to them as well as to their children, whose voices were silenced too soon.