Finally, this year as a late birthday present for us both, my long-time friend Penny took us on 22 August 2018. It was a gray day. Foggy with a drizzling rain. Penny's GPS took us into the cemetery, along a grassy path, and right to the easily recognizable grave marker.
As an offering, we both placed some change on top the table, as so many others before have done and as so many after us will most likely do. In the concrete surrounding the grave, you can see the remnants of the wrought iron fence that used to surround the grave; it was sawed off, scavenged during World War I.
The cemetery was eerily quiet this rainy day. In fact, other than Penny and myself, there was only one other person in the entire cemetery--a single caretaker who was cutting grass in the rain. Every once in a while, there would be a strike of lightning and a clap of thunder. Creepy. Like I was supposed to be there on that day.
Having waited nearly my whole life to visit, it was well worth the trip, even in the weather.
We had a moment of silence for the woman whose identity no one knew, except for the man with whom she'd gotten off the shop, and then spent some time wandering through the huge, old cemetery in the rain, discovering a lot of other pretty cool gravestones.