we buried my father

I live in a cemetery

my grandmother, a stranger and me

All photographs: 29 - 30.03.2025

Last Saturday, on 30.04.2025, we buried my father in Hungary. His grave is below a small church in a hollow.

Many friendly people came to the reception afterwards, hardly any of whom I knew. But they all knew my father, and they knew him differently to me.

If I know how to interpret their stories correctly, he was a good pal.

After they put the urn in that hole, I finally understood that my father would not return. He was gone now forever.