This week I am sharing on my first visit to my loved one's grave after the funeral.

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I have never truly understood why people visit the burial place of their loved ones. I suppose it’s one of those things you never truly know about until it happens to you.

The days and weeks that followed after the funeral were particularly challenging. My head believed the facts. However, my heart was either reluctant to accept or was slow at catching up with the fact that we had buried my wife, and there was no return, no miracle.

I can’t remember how I got to the cemetery. I remembered turning at the second roundabout after our house, and the next thing I remember was that I was about to drive through the black gates of the cemetery on my own. I had driven for 20 mins on auto-pilot , lost in deep thoughts.

All I wanted to see was the final resting place of my loved one despite these cold and distressing thoughts.

In the midst of my sobbing, I found myself occasionally laughing as some fond memories we shared smuggled themselves in. Sometimes, I would say “not now” as if there was someone beside me trying to cheer me up. I wanted to be left alone. But my’ memory companion’ was persistent.

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