As I walk along a path, that no one ever wants to travel. My eyes consume the sepulchral land before me and the resting place of many lives, dreams, and the last memories of a loved one being embedded in the psyche of those that will keep their legacy going for all eternity.
In the light of the morning sky, the world has embraced a brand new day anticipated to be full of joy and exhilaration. No one knew that in the eyes of one family this day would bring nothing but sadness and realization. The trees do not appear their most vibrant shade of jade in the glow of this ominous day. Varieties of headstones litter the earth, holding their majestic appeal and flaunting their significance. As I twist my head from left to right, I read the many different dates of death, the different fonts, letter sizes and numerous sincere messages, which loved ones have composed, that try to capture the life of the one being laid to rest in one sentence.
I begin to direct my attention to the expressive faces that relay their agony; the pearl-sized tears that stream down their features creating moist valleys in their skin. The funereal atmosphere of this residence is so profound that it grasps anyone and everyone there, and shakes the very foundation of their being. Nevertheless, the most acute presence is the one distinctive resonance that echoes throughout this place. Weeping... sobbing... the anguished cries of angst that ripple through the mind, body, and soul of the grief-stricken and anyone within audible range.
Tears filling my own eyes, and myself not ready to express such emotion, turn away. And I see the path, the cold cement drive, leading to the world that is ignorant to the...