They set a flower upon the ground before a stone. When asked, they stated they were an orphan. But how could they be one if their parents raised them? Just because they were now an adult did not mean they were not their family's child. Looking sorrowfully upon the asker, they stated, their voice straining with pain. "In the end, almost all of us will end up orphans one day." -- Anon Guest
Lorin stared at the names on the memorial. How was she supposed to feel about people she couldn't remember? They shared a surname, but there was little beyond that for Lorin to relate to. All she'd known was Unty Dimmas and the monthly visits to these memorial stones.
There were pictures on the side-table at home. Mother. Father. But they were just faces. Just like the names on the stone were just... names.
Lorin had to stay here for an hour, to think. She spent most of the time plucking weeds or random bits of grass until Unty Dimmas came back to fetch her. This time, there was freshly-turned earth in the graveyard. A new stone, clean and shining with its letters sharp.
And a grownup placing offerings by the stone.
"Well-met, fellow orphan," said the grownup. She awkwardly settled on the ground. "My parents are gone, too."
Lorin frowned. "Only children are allowed to be orphans," she insisted. "They don't get parents to bring them up."
"An orphan," said the grownup, "is anyone who's lost both parents. I have recently become one."
"It's not fair," said Lorin. "You remember them. You had them. You loved them." And I didn't get that chance.
"No. It isn't fair. And I dare say that I don't know which is worse."
Orphans together, neither knowning truly how to feel, stared at their respective stones.
[Photo by Cathan Oddy on Unsplash]
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