The man startled me at first, because I was standing in the middle of a cemetery and I didn’t see or hear a car. But the dead never bother me when I come to this particular hill for sunset pictures — and Alan didn’t bother me, either.
He stood silently just a little above me on the hill as I shot pictures of the sunset. I rarely see people there this late in the day, although it’s happened before. Most people seem to leave long before the sun starts sinking toward the horizon. Most don’t seem fond of cemeteries at night.
But Alan stood there watching quietly, seemingly absorbed in his own thoughts.
After I took a few more pictures, I looked over my shoulder and greeted him. It seemed uncomfortable to be so close in such an unusual place without at least acknowledging the presence of a living person.
We introduced ourselves and remarked idly about the beautiful sunset we were watching. Then he mentioned having been in the same spot this morning at sunrise — and I couldn’t help but ask more.
Alan’s wife died about a month ago. Her body is buried just down the hill from where we stood.

If you want to win a chess match, you have to play chess, not lecture the other players
Pursuit of perfection leaves me feeling shame when I’m flawed
Media and mass hysteria lead us into madness of celebrity worship
Tuesday’s Senate vote reminds me of German ‘Enabling Act’ of 1933
Local politics isn’t a Frank Capra movie; it’s every man for himself
With space shuttle finally dead, free market can do better job in space
I don’t care where Pedro is from, but I’m happy he’s my neighbor
Is ‘majority rule’ moral even when the majority don’t want freedom?