We are just now back from a trip to England, and the last thing I saw is the first thing on my mind to write about. We visited Nunhead Cemetery, one of the Magnificent Seven Victorian-era cemeteries on the outskirts of London.
For the Victorians, death was an everyday occurrence, a part of life interwoven with the rest. Loved ones of every age died slowly or suddenly, with terrible frequency. Emotional bonds were constantly being torn apart by death, lives churned again and again. I find it difficult to think how they survived being crushed over and over and over.