Drove out to Grandma' gravesite today. I hadn't been there since she passed.
When we drove up, a black dog ran across the field to show us the gate. We had to open it to get in. He waited patiently while we were there. He wagged his tail and smelled my hand, but didn't want pets. Just a grounds overseer.
He left when we did, never going past the gate.
There was an old guy living in the village, he shunned us (the family) if evere any of us said "bonjour" or "ça va" to him he'd turn his head away.
The council put new gates on the cemetery. While passing on a walk i saw the guy stood by the gate with his dog trying to open it. I said excuse me, opened the gate for them and beckoned them inside.
Both he and his dog became great family friends because of that simple task at the cemetery gate.
A couple of years ago he died, Paul and i went to the funeral (the first time I've attended a church service for around 20 years. The coffin was at the front with his dog sitting alongside looking at the coffin all through the service. It was one of the the most moving things I've ever seen.
Tomorrow is day of the dead, I'll be going to the cemetery to remember him.