Cemeteries with seas of flowersCrosses and gravestones with namesHundreds, thousands of them.Names that had a liveNames that have had laughter and sorrowEver more people precede usSome of them are just stories we inherited,  a picture, a box in a family treeOthers are fond memoriesthat we cling to in fear that these grow paleThey are holes in our own livesleaving a void that cannot be filledAs we