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The Shrewsbury Cemetery was a vast, rambling, long neglected, concluding resting place for the dead residents of this town, dating back a hundred years or so.
Member rating: No Rating | Words: | Submitted: Tue Oct 21 2003
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There could not have been a gloomier day than the one in which we buried Granny. She had finally succumbed to the cruelty of Father Time and although her death was expected, it still managed to stir up emotions of disbelief and misery throughout our family. I couldn't help thinking that she'd always be there through the years, but the heartbreaking reality began to set in as we'd gathered on that bitter, murky, damp afternoon. The Shrewsbury Cemetery was a vast, rambling, long neglected, concluding resting place for the dead residents of this town, dating back a hundred years or so. Its irregular terrain was speckled with clusters of small hills and great scary trees whose enormous branches whistle an eerie song as the tough winter winds blew all the way through them. Headstones that were centuries old bore the barely legible, climate beaten inscriptions of the names of those dead,...
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