Joyfully retired to Prescott Valley, Arizona. Hospice Volunteer at the Prescott VA Hospital/Medical Center.

Here's a poem that touches my heart. It is the reason we are in this service; for both the living and those who have gone on before us.

THE RECORDING OF A CEMETERY
BY THELMA GREENE REAGAN
Today we walked where others walked on a lonely, windswept hill; today we talked where others cried for loved ones whose lives are stilled. Today our hearts were touched by graves of tiny babies; snatched from the arms of loving kin, in the heartbreak of the ages. Today we saw where the grandparents lay in the last sleep of their time; lying under the trees and clouds - their beds kissed by the sun and wind. Today we wondered about an unmarked spot; who lies beneath this hollowed ground? Was it a babe, child, young or old? No indication could be found. Today we saw where Mom and Dad lay. We had been here once before on a day we'd all like to forget, but will remember forever more. Today we recorded for kith and kin the graves of ancestors past; to be preserved for generations hence, a record we hope will last. Cherish it, my friend; preserve it, my friend, for stones sometimes crumble to dust and generations of folks yet to come will be grateful for your trust.
"Call not back the dear departed anchored safe where storms are o'er on the border land we left them soon to meet and part no more."

Inscription on a gravestone

"Show me the manner in which a nation cares for its dead, and I will measure with mathmatical exactness the tender mercies of its people, their respect for the laws of the land and their loyalty to high ideals."
By William Gladstone

Joyfully retired to Prescott Valley, Arizona. Hospice Volunteer at the Prescott VA Hospital/Medical Center.

Here's a poem that touches my heart. It is the reason we are in this service; for both the living and those who have gone on before us.

THE RECORDING OF A CEMETERY
BY THELMA GREENE REAGAN
Today we walked where others walked on a lonely, windswept hill; today we talked where others cried for loved ones whose lives are stilled. Today our hearts were touched by graves of tiny babies; snatched from the arms of loving kin, in the heartbreak of the ages. Today we saw where the grandparents lay in the last sleep of their time; lying under the trees and clouds - their beds kissed by the sun and wind. Today we wondered about an unmarked spot; who lies beneath this hollowed ground? Was it a babe, child, young or old? No indication could be found. Today we saw where Mom and Dad lay. We had been here once before on a day we'd all like to forget, but will remember forever more. Today we recorded for kith and kin the graves of ancestors past; to be preserved for generations hence, a record we hope will last. Cherish it, my friend; preserve it, my friend, for stones sometimes crumble to dust and generations of folks yet to come will be grateful for your trust.
"Call not back the dear departed anchored safe where storms are o'er on the border land we left them soon to meet and part no more."

Inscription on a gravestone

"Show me the manner in which a nation cares for its dead, and I will measure with mathmatical exactness the tender mercies of its people, their respect for the laws of the land and their loyalty to high ideals."
By William Gladstone