Retired, enthusiastic genealogist living in Florida.
Your Tombstone
Your tombstone stands among the rest, neglected and alone,
The name and date are chiseled out, an old gray granite stone.
It reaches out to all who care, it is too late to mourn,
You did not know that I exist, you died and I was born.
Yet each of us are cells of you, in flesh, in blood, in bone
Our blood contracts and beats a pulse entirely not our own.
Dear Ancestor, the place you filled one hundred years ago
Spreads out among the ones you left who would have loved you so.
I wonder when you lived and loved; I wonder if you knew
That someday I would find this spot and come and visit you. Author Unknown

Retired, enthusiastic genealogist living in Florida.
Your Tombstone
Your tombstone stands among the rest, neglected and alone,
The name and date are chiseled out, an old gray granite stone.
It reaches out to all who care, it is too late to mourn,
You did not know that I exist, you died and I was born.
Yet each of us are cells of you, in flesh, in blood, in bone
Our blood contracts and beats a pulse entirely not our own.
Dear Ancestor, the place you filled one hundred years ago
Spreads out among the ones you left who would have loved you so.
I wonder when you lived and loved; I wonder if you knew
That someday I would find this spot and come and visit you. Author Unknown