The first thing that caught my eye was the mass of artificial flowers on the grave. Then I saw a little plastic toy imbedded in the dirt above the modest grave marker. The toy was what my three year old son would refer to as a ‘guy.’ He’ll name cars and stuffed animals, but plastic men are ‘guys.’
I leaned in closer and saw two more toys, an orange fishy and a car.
I read the marker, and the boy in the grave was but three years old. I almost vomited and definitely burst into tears. The family placed his little favorite toys on his grave so he could always have them.
I had to walk away from that little boy’s resting place. That poor child, his poor family. My oh my, the three fates are nothing if not cruel.