Several years ago as I was walking through a wooded area just outside of town and I came upon an old deserted cemetery. Most of the graves had been removed many years before. Time had passed, and nature had reclaimed the land. All indications of a cemetery had all but been concealed. In the depths of this wooded area I found a grave that had been left behind. The grave had a large stone marker, which had been pushed over and now laid on the ground. I brushed away the decaying leaves and read the engraved headstone. The engraving read, "Viloet Walker, Mar.10, 1861 - Nov.10, 1916, gone but not forgotten". I pondered for a moment upon those words. As I looked around I was saddened to think, she was gone and forgotten. Who was Viloet Walker, what was she like, where did she live, did she have any family and where are they now? That same time which removed this cemetery from sight had now removed the memory of Viloet's life. Her life, just like my life, just like your life, did, and does have meaning. Each and every person has a story to tell, but few are those who choose to record their stories. Time moves forward, and lives pass. It is only in our written words that we can truly be remembered. As each generation passes, their stories are remembered by possibly two subsequent generations, after which, each of those past memories slowly begin to slip from thought, to be remembered no more.
For Viloet, may she be remembered.
(see the image posted).