A story in stone

This is the marker where a man I loved is buried.  There is a now fairly trite thing said at funerals about the dash.  The space between the birth and death of a man. 

Yet.  

I look at this and think of the remarkable life he had. Wars.  Joy.  Tragedy.  Love.  Sacrifice.  Politics and great wisdom.

I was fortunate to have such a good man in my life, much of who I am is because of him. RIP