THIS IS THE GIST OF A SHORT STORY WITTEN BY WALT WHITMAN THAT I READ AND I AM IMPELLED TO SHARE IT WITH YOU BECAUSE I LOVED IT VERY MUCH

On a bright Sabbath morning in May I sauntered along the ridges of a hillock on the top of which was a burial ground. I ambled along to the top, enjoying the sight of the glittering dewdrops on the grass and inhaling the fragrance of the apple blossoms. At the top I leaned against the fence and glanced over the wide expanse of the grave yard .

My eyes fell on an old woman slowly moving between two adjacent graves. She seemed to be going back and forth from one to the other and was placing flowers on both. She would alter the arrangement on one, then stand back to assess her work and then move to the other and do the same there.It was if she was trying to adorn both the graves equally..

My curiosity got the better of me and I walked towards her.

"Good Morning! May I know whose graves they are that you tend so lovingly?"I asked her softly

"My husband's." She mumbled

"And whose else?" I prodded.

"My husband's." Came the terse reply .

"Yes I know. One is of your husband and the other is"... I paused so that she can fill in.

"My husband's. None but my Gilbert's."

Poor lady!, she seems to have lost her mind

"Your husband is buried in both?."I persisted.

She was quiet .

I felt bad. I should not have persisted.I was poking my nose into her personal misery.

But then she opened up and out came her story.

She and her husband were immigrants from West Indies and they were eking out a living in this village.

But poverty and famine made them both very ill. By the time help came from the charities he was dead and she was moved to the poor house. She took a long time to get better. Once she was good enough to venture out, the first thing she wanted was to find her husband's grave

Now poor people are so casually buried and who would bother to mark their graves? The authorities could not tell her where exactly Gilbert was buried, But the sexton after some research pointed out two graves and told her that Gilbert was in one of the two graves and that much he was certain.

From that time onwards on every Sunday during milder seasons she would venture out, collect wild flowers and lay them equally on both. And she would bend over both praying for their souls.This way she knew that the right grave was cared for even if one extra person was getting the same care..

"If only I knew which grave to bend over when my heart is heavy." She sobbed. "May be God, in His wisdom, didn't want me to have that luxury."
She finished her story and got up to go..
I offered to walk with her, but she refused my help. I watched her plodding away .
I stood still for many minutes very affected by her story and the depth of her love for her husband.

For those who want to know more about her I could add more information. She was reunited with her husband soon and the sextant was kind enough to comply with her last wish-that she may be buried midway between those two graves.
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