Returning home from an errand this morning, I drove slowly, due to low visibility. I noticed the fog coating the nearby cemetery and turned in.
I saw wreaths in the trees and wreaths by the gravestones.
Statues of Jesus and the Virgin Mary.
Little hands clasped in prayer.
Heartbreaking resting places for little ones.
Uplifting seasonal signs for others.
And a stillness that shrouded it all. 
A woman sits, perhaps speculating about the three maidens who hurled themselves down into the river below, after hearing word that their lovers were lost in the Crusades.
A fellow WordPress blogger was able to take a more current shot.
It reminds me of the Randy Travis song, “Three Wooden Crosses.” It always hurts my heart to see crosses on the side of the highway. Lives lost, people missed.
I received word that my granddad passed away this morning at the age of 94. Many moons ago, he, like many in The Greatest Generation, fought in WWII, so that you and I could have the freedom we enjoy. But more than a soldier, he was a good father and grandfather.
He enjoyed hearing my son play the piano.
And even shooting pool with him last August.
Rest in peace, Granddad.
My friend, Debbie, passed away yesterday from cancer, but this is how I choose to remember her–dancing in red capris. She is in heaven now, and we will lay her body to rest tomorrow. Goodbye, Debbie.
I Don't Get It 