The story goes like this. About 4 or 5 years ago, mum and I were talking about Colin, her first child who died of cot death, 16 days old. She was telling me about where he was buried and why she chose that location. We got out Google Maps and mum showed me on the map exactly where the cemetery was. It is located next to a railway line she said so that he could enjoy the sound of the trains.
|Google map image of where Colin's grave is located|
|From the entrance looking towards the grave (circled)|
|Looking from the grave towards the entrance|
So the opportunity came three years ago for me to visit the grave site. I jumped on a train from London to Aldershot and followed mum's directions as she had given them to me on Google. And just like that I had gone from her lounge room in Perth, Western Australia looking at the grave on the Internet, to standing in front of it.
I never thought I would get the opportunity to visit again, however, never say never. Last time I tried quite badly to clean the grave, this time I went prepared. I bought some cleaner and even managed to buy some flowers this time (Sorry mum, couldn't find any daffodils so I bought daffodil coloured roses).
I squirted cleaning liquid over and over, I scrubbed and scrubbed, and I wished for a tap and bucket to be able to wash off the grime that I was cleaning. And on cue, the heavens opened and a summer rain shower washed down the grave for me (and me in the process!).
|Colin's grave as I found it|
|After a good scrub and God's rinsing|