sleet and snow…
…make little Henry Byrn’s grave seem even more sad than usual.
Out there in our yard, on the land that his family held for generations in the 1800s – little Henry Byrn died at the age of four. We walk by his grave thirty-some times a day.
But the sleet and snow…even after some 160 years…..lying on a child’s grave…..is hard to take.
So I took him a little flower. And felt better.
RIP, little friend. We remember you. We know you’re here.