I like cemeteries. I like the sense of history they instill. And, having been a resident of this town for over 20 years, I recognise many of the names as being the names of families who are still here.
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Setting the scene. Looking north. This cemetery is on a hill overlooking Armidale city. It wouldn’t have been there when the cemetery was first used, but suburbia now sits across the road to the west.
This timber-fenced grave sits, broken, amidst the time resisting granite slabs. No identification can be made from the weathered, painted marker.
Likewise, this unbordered grave, with a simple wooden cross, sits amidst the others.
The stone records than here lie two sisters, one died in 1894 aged 13, the other died in 1945 aged 77.
Sadly, perhaps, this metal plate is the only remnant to record that here someone lies. I trust that the official records for this cemetery still record the name.
Recording that heartbreak struck the Burling family. Here lies Dan, aged 2 days.