A town alive in a celebration of maple syrup and its goodness. It was full of life under an azure spring sky until the procession began to wind its way through.
Most streets were blocked yet the solemness was not lost as vehicles pulled over, turned on lights and some drivers made the sign of the cross as we passed by.
Their acknowledgement of a dear departed soul on her final journey was not lost amongst the mourners accompanying her along the way. I whispered “thank you” for their consideration.
Out to the country and onto an ancient road we travelled. A dirt road trod by many over the centuries, bordered by fields waiting seed, a rushing brook and stone mills.
This was her final home, in a loving cared for cemetery on a hill overlooking those same fields she once ran through, and next to the school house where she learned the A, B, C's a century ago.
She now rests beside her husband where the morning sun will shine upon them united once again, forever.