We went to the cemetery on Saturday. It was very gloomy after Stockport and all the blue balloons and Father’s Day signs. It rained. You never quite get used to visiting a grave. The removal of dead flowers, the tearing up of the grass which grows up to the plinth. And then the splosh of the water bottle to clean the marble and get rid of old leaves and the pieces of plant that stick to it. My dad never was one for flowers.
As far as graveyards go Agecroft is pleasant enough. It is beautifully maintained and wherever you look there are flowers and garlands. Some of the plots are quite crowded with statues, lanterns, photographs in plastic sleeves, linked fences and teddy bears. At one time I would have hated it. Thought it gaudy even. But not now. When I walk through the cemetery and hear the wind chimes and glance at the tributes and small tokens, I understand. They can’t let go either.
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