Walking through the Portage, Utah cemetery was humbling and emotional, as all cemeteries usually are for me. I remembered coming to this cemetery once previously for my great-uncle’s funeral; however, that day was filled with sadness and grief at the loss of a loved one. This time, the cemetery seemed different. Flowers of all kinds adorned almost all the headstones, and wind chimes blew from under a nearby pine tree. A few other people were scattered throughout the small plot of land, each paying their respect to their loved ones, just as we had come to do. I watched my grandma as she tenderly stood over the grave of her parents – her expression solemn while she remembered their lives. Other graves were visited, other lives remembered, and more flowers were placed with respect on top of the deceased. After arranging the last bundle of flowers next to my great-great-grandmothers headstone, the song of the meadowlark drifted through the air, “Portage is a pretty little town”. Two, three more times came the bird’s simple tune, “Portage is a pretty little town”. And I laughed into the wind! Not because it was funny, but because it was beautiful! All the mixed emotions that had been running through me that day were evaporated by one simple tune, “Portage is a pretty little town”, and I was left with only pure joy and the beautiful song of the meadowlark forever in my heart.
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