That Could Never Be Me

As I got out of my car on the summer-like spring day I was filled with uncertainty. I, for one am terribly afraid of dead people or the likes there of, and yes that includes cemeteries. The assignment was to enter the cemetery and make observations that would hopefully assist me in writing this essay. I walked down the steep hill that led from the church parking lot and I was warmly greeted at the old, rusty, rickety gate by my professor. As she handed me the yellow legal pad that I have got accustomed to signing every day I began to feel uneasy. I walked up the steps and entered the old cemetery. The chirping of the birds and the moderate southerly breeze would be absolutely perfect for a walk in the park or for a brisk walk or rejuvenating run. The big oak tree was the first thing to catch my eye. From the looks of the massive roots and branches of the tree it had been there just as long some of the now permanent "residents" of the cemetery. Almost directly in front of the humongous tree is the tomb of the well known Mr. Walter Oliver Parmer and his wife .As I continued walking around the cemetery I noticed many of the different names of people that were also corner stones of the community. But the one thing that caught my attention and made me wonder the most were four unmarked graves that were only noticeable because they had been rectangled off by someone. I began to wonder what would it be like to be all alone in a cold, musty grave and for nobody to even know who or where you are. I continued walking and just like in any cemetery I came across a few small graves. I could not help but wonder how they got there. Was it a fatal disease? Was it Stillbirth? Was