We drove out to Ogdensburg yesterday afternoon to deliver the long-promised flowers to Uncle Jack, the twins and family of the twins. It was the anniversary of my diagnosis and it seemed laying flowers on the gravestones was our way of saying goodbye to a year-long obsession with death and dying. And at the same time, we remembered people who had long since been forgotten. Whose time on this earth is marked by a day of birth and a day of birth, with cold white marble in between.

Perhaps by leaving flowers on these lonely graves, someone will walk by and stop to admire the roses. Maybe they’ll read the names and dates and imagine the lives lived in between just as we have done.