Yesterday, I wandered through some gardens. I wasn’t doing anything in particular, just wandering. Dotted along the path, there were small collections of graves. All of them were old, back from the first British settlers back in the 1900’s.
I glanced at one. There was nothing special about it, it just caught my eye, and I looked. The name on the gravestone was William Frederick. He was an English Settler. My eyes slid down further. Died 21st August 1958. My birthday.
He had died on the day that in 38 years, I would be born on. Now, I sit at my computer and I wonder who he was. Did he have a wife, and a family? Did he have 3 children, 6, or maybe none? He had a life. He had an important, meaningful life just like anyone alive today. I want to know who he was. I want to talk to him and listen to him pour out his thoughts and worries. Because, sometimes, we forget just how important the lives of those who lived before us were, and still are. They were the people who have written our history. If it wasn’t for them, things would be a lot different. What happened in the past makes our future. And William Frederick was a part of that.
Now, I know that if I had chosen not to look at that gravestone, and just keep on wandering, I would still be forgetting. Forgetting them. But I chose to look, and now I am changed. I still have the same name, and look the same. And I pretty much act the same. But inside, my mind is remembering. At every chance it gets, I will let my brain think about William Frederick and the people of his generation that have slipped into the dark corners of our skulls where we don’t look.
On the 21st Of August 2010, I am going to walk down to Fairfield Park and stand in front of the grave of William Frederick. I am going to thank him.
We share a special day, me and him.

Thank you, William Frederick. I am forever grateful.