Years ago when my mother was still alive and residing here on our property, we took her up north to decorate graves one Memorial Day. She asked Cliff to take her a little way off the main road on our return trip so she could decorate the grave of her second husband's baby that died back in the thirties. The graveyard was on highway 116 a few miles west of Polo, Missouri.
In the whole graveyard, one particular grave stood out; my curiosity got the better of me, and I simply had to take a closer look.
Back on that Memorial Day weekend there was a man at the gate to the cemetery taking offerings for the upkeep of the graveyard, and I asked Cliff to stop so I could ask the guy if he knew the story behind this monument.
Stimpy, mentioned at the bottom, was Junior's cat, and if I remember correctly, was buried with him.
Harold Jr. was a gay man, an employee of Hallmark, whose family disowned him once they learned of his lifestyle. He died of AIDS, but before his death he made plans for a memorial in the family's graveyard of choice... something that would stand out in such a way that relatives could not ignore him, ever again.
The man at the gate told me that before Memorial Day, several people had come out and polished and waxed the monument until it fairly gleamed. At the time I wrote a rather lengthy poem about the whole thing.
So this morning when we drove past the cemetery, I noticed another structure of some kind close by the tomb and told Cliff I wanted to stop on the way back and check it out.
Think twice before you disinherit your child. He may reach out from beyond the grave and bring some hidden things to light.