Granite

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like the above him, as a four-day-old infant. She considered this while shifting her vision to the huge slab of white stone near the left road.
This was the children’s saint, with most of the children buried around it. When her family came to the grave when she was in grade school, she used to love to climb on the smooth stone and hear the sparrows in their tiny trees dotting the plateau of the dead.
She shook this thought off with a cold shiver as the first droplets of a new rain fell tumbling on her jersey. Her eyes showed she was inattentive to it while she kneeled, slowly outlining the word "Joey" with her left pinky.
She’d always regretted the fact that she never felt any real depression from his death, but how could she? She wasn’t even a twinkle in her parents’ eye when it happened. She drew in a long breath, now feeling the remorse of her parents and other brother felt every birthday and Mother’s Day they came.
She heard a crash of lightning as the rain fell harder. ...

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