Sun Mote Copse and all the greedy souls just don't care to know

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Weejay would never agree her daddy looked like trash, or anything resembling it. As they marched along, she felt much of the same trepidation Eljay did about returning to her grandparent's graves. It was a constant reminder they were truly, irrevocably gone -- and that no matter what, nothing would bring them back.

She supposed the best thing to do then was to honor their memory. To love and to think of them often. To live on as they might have done, and to cause small ripples of goodness in this otherwise calamitous world. Her daddy may have been momentarily taken aback by the baldness of her tone, but Weejay was quick to follow up with an affectionate nudge -- she would always be his baby girl, and he would always be her favoritest daddy -- nothing, not death or demise or decay, could ever take that from them.

"I think they would like it." Weejay commented as she observed their handiwork -- two freshly transplanted plants demarking their graves. "I bet they're looking down at us, hoping we do some good in this life -- and when our time is over here, they'll be the first to greet us on the other side."