The dead ones not long ago considered “someone” in this area. Now, people from the village, not only do they pass by the tomb of this family, but none says a word to the ones from this family still living. They don’t see them, as if they do not even exist. Finally, there was someone who eventually said hello to them. As if he glimpsed my perplexity, a villager tapped me on the shoulder, telling me:
-They are cousins, sir … and left, to go to his work.
Gleaning from a villager and from the encounter with the “country side”, with the village, gave me a special feeling which became more and more evident growing in my behaviour having the power to erase from my mind and from my soul all the stress accumulated in a week of work. I felt like I was at home, as if I was near the ones I love, protected and needed, just as in a family reunion after a long time apart. Leaving the graveyard and reassembling, each with their own group, you could hear remarks about the special service, given by the old priest.
Our host for that day, “Buia Toma”, then commented on the occasion:
-As a constant beneficiary of this priest’s honored service not only to our village but also to those other villages in the area, I can say he is swely our worthy apostle. The problem did occur which is discouraging, because my father, one of the founders of this church, and other parents contributed to the church’s construction. They had not considered that the building of a church needed to be an appropriate size for the small number of people in the village. They dared to build our church in size as big and magnificent as the churches from the border villages. Their ambition was much too high for the smallest village around. Although, you may see that the church was completed the priest, until now, was not able to see his church full of Christians. Maybe, this could be the reasons why today he was able to preach in such a special way. For him, this day became also an event. For the first time, he admired the congregation he had desired for a lifetime. You could feel that even he could not believe this thing could happen, which would explain why his eyes were closed during the whole service. Possibly for him it was still a dream, and he was afraid to wake up… from the dream and the wish of his life. “Buia Toma” “caught me” looking closely at the tombs in the graveyard. “Did you know somebody from here?”

– Believe me, I recalled my own, the ones who “brought me into this world” and caused me some soul searching. I haven’t looked for something in particular, reading the notes from the crosses, but being here for the second time, why I still know some of them vivialy.
-You said second time, that means that the first time you were here was at the burial of my daughter. As far as you have seen, like in all graveyards, you can find in here tombs that are being taken care of, few are looking better, according the “descends” money, but most of the time according “the short memory” of the close ones, that got rid off some worry after they “put in dirt” their parents. According all this, what we still remember is that the most beautiful burial, if the term is not too improper for this kind of pain, was not of those who had high positions, power and fortunes. At the burial of those with crypt, is easy to understand that people came only because of the “obligations” they had towards those families, and few villagers spent their time remembering them, those who even after death built real residences. The main thing is that all this is in vane. Stones have never taken place and will never take the place of love. So, I don’t want to bother you to much with this, I just want to tell you that the burial of my daughter was as far as I know on the second place as far as we know from around here. But the most beautiful and painful burial was of a driver. It happened in a winter. I believe that day was the coldest in that time. The snow crunched as if it was one with the convoy. All hamlet’s man kind was behind the coffin, mourning alongside his family and coworkers. Those twenty cars that followed the convoy were endlessly honking and through this multitude of sounds, it seemed that the honk of his car was breaking through the lamentable sadness above all the other sounds, after that young man. A man as big as a fir, and the same soul, who in everyplace he has been through made himself noticed, conspicuous, gathered away, appreciated and even loved. None, from here or from somewhere else, mentioned having any kind of troubles and he wouldn’t give the help needed, he would have helped and supported you, in any way he could. And what large shoulders he used to have… He was the kind of man from the world and made for the world. He was good at everything; nothing was strange enough for him … from what was human. Well … this man had fallen down as if he was stricken by lightning.

He died after a heart attack, leaving his family, friends, acquaintances, widowers after a remarkable human being. Over two hundred people took place at his convoy considering that our village doesn’t have more than one hundred places, there have came lots of acquaintances, lots of friends, with over fifty wreaths and bouquets of flowers. Almost all the consorts of the convoy were inflamed with coldness, within their bones. Their feet were so frozen that none of them has swallowed a bite at the alms gift, until they took a few glasses of plum brandy, to warm up, and still with all this nobody has left the convoy. People were saying that his mother, of the driver, turned out to be a young widow, having to raise around seven children, and in the same time her death left a big hole for her children’s soul, causing them a lot of suffering, for lots of years after her death. Little left for one of them to follow her right after this. The shock was induced by the driver’s wife imprudence that has thrown his wreath of flowers over his mother’s coffin. This horrible and unjustified imprudence, stoned the driver’s brother that according to the imprudence made will be the first to follow his mother. The man did not say a word at the senselessness of his sister-in-law, moving on. He took this as a premonition, mainly because they never argued; she did not annoy him with anything. The driver’s brother knew everything is evanescent, but like everyone of us he hasn’t “done his homework” regarding this chapter. He was staring with cold eyes at the superposed tomb, knowing for sure that he will be the cohabitant from “the tier”. Few years have pasted and the premonition was about to come true. An infarct “attempted” his heart, reminding him of the empty place, at the tier of his mother’s tomb. I have told you this terrible story because the driver’s brother survived the infarct, while the driver died of the same illness in the arms of the doctors that assisted him.
– It is true that today some sad events gathered us up here, joined the conversation a true citizen, one that has been through the recent revolution. He was invited to join this Memorial Day, alike the others. Let’s not forget that today is also a celebration day, the day in which we celebrate Thomas, and I believe I could move the stories to different direction. In fact I will retell the story of a friend of mine, a story that I believe it affected all of us in a way: „ We were about five years far from the „ two hours television”, in which were broadcasted „grand indications”, and right after „ the payment of the external debts”. It was a date that for most of the people became a sad one to remember, although that „from above” it was turned into a celebration of those days.