Thursday, July 7, 2016


My boss asked if I could come to the graveside service he'd planned for his wife. It was last Wednesday afternoon; they'd be gathering at 1:15 with the service starting at 1:30.

I got to Fort Langley cemetery at 1:10, looking for the area where they'd meet...

Across the cemetery, I saw a group of people enter in a line, each carrying a red rose.

"Nuts. I'm at the wrong end."
I zipped across the lawn, respectful of the headstones, zigzagging behind trees, taking pics with the telephoto lens, looking for a good position that wasn't intrusive.

Through my lens I was searching for my boss.
"Ah. That must be him at the front of the procession."

Totally not.

What are the chances that there would be two burials within 15 minutes of each other in the same (small) cemetery?

Good. The chances are good.

Sorry, random family who are grieving. Didn't mean to be disrespectful by hiding behind trees taking photos of your sorrow.

Two minutes later, I found the spot I was supposed to be at. And a minute later, my boss and his family arrived.

RIP, Heather.

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