Yesterday, as part of our Fun Holiday Activities, my daughter & I visited my my mother's grave. It's not at all morbid , partly because the cemetery is hugely interesting & as historic as Sydney can get & is also in this killer location on a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean.
Large Italian families have mausoleums resembling little miniature churches like the one on the left of the first photo. But my mum's grave is far more modest. She was cremated, so she just occupies a tiny patch of a small circular garden.
But yesterday I found it a slightly unsettling experience when we got to Mum's grave & found that a small stone bearing a sign that said, 'Reserved' was sitting right next to her. In fact there were two stones side by side bearing 'Reserved' signs.
When my Mum died twenty three years ago, my Dad decided to buy three tiny plots. One for him, one for me & one for Mum. I found it a bit creepy at the time, but it turned out to be a wise move because now all the cemeteries are filling up & it's hard to get a spot.
But now the Cemetary People have put up these Reserved signs it really rammed it home to me that Yes, I'm going to die. And that's where I'm going to end up. And I also better go & find my Dad's ashes which have been languishing at the Crematorium since 1999 & stick them in his Reserved spot.