Yesterday was such a gorgeous day. It was a lazy Sunday morning and we didn't know what to do. So Matt decided we should go to the cemetary for an early Halloween chill. Morbid I know but we were really in search of Peter Mortenson. The orginal owner of house back in 1902. We anxiously drove around looking for section T234. We parked and started walking up and down the rows of the section he was in, then all the sudden Matt called over to me "Moretenson!! I found it!" I ran up to the headstone, an erie silence grew between me and Matt. It was almost like we were both in shock that this was really real. We had read so much about Peter and his wife Hannah. And there they were beneath our feet, all that was left of them was a couple names carved in a piece of granite.
We got to talking about how nobody has probably come to visit this stone in some time. When was the last time someone placed flowers on this grave? I took some seeds from a hollyhock that was growing on headstone nearby and planted them next to the stone. The chance of regrowth for someone that may or may not be forgotton.
It's amazing to think theres 70 years between 1938 (when Peter passed) and now. So much has probably changed or maybe nothing has changed at all. They lived in our house in 1929 during the great depression and Matt and I are living in a similar economic time in the same house. How many laughs and tears were shared in this house, kisses and hugs? They had a family in this house, they had grandbabies in this house. How much love could fill the walls of our little home.
It got me thinking, does Peter ever come back to check on his house? Like an unexpected landlord....
Are our Ancestors thinking about us too?
1 week ago