So it turns out my first cousin, once removed, Alexander Brebner Millar is buried in Seaview Cemetery near Gibsons. I had no idea he was here when I first moved to the Coast. My wife, Carole, found out. She’s kind of a genealogy super-sleuth, so she knows about that stuff.
Anyway, we decided to go visit Alex and as we drove in through the gates, we realized the graveyard is a lot bigger than it looks from the highway. There’s an awful lot of graves in there.
“This is going to take forever,” says I. “Why don’t they bury them in alphabetical order?”
“… because then they’d have to die in alphabetical order,” says she. “Just park and we’ll start looking.”
“Where should I park?”
I didn’t ask the question out loud. I just thought it in my head, and that’s when the spookiness started. Someone, not Carole, answered:
“Up ahead, by the tree, in the shade.”
It didn’t come to me as a voice. It wasn’t even communicated in words, although the meaning seemed pretty clear. It was more like, I don’t know, a vibration maybe, a chill breeze from the beyond, a gentle nudge from the other side. I did as I was told, because that’s what you should always do when you get messages from the hereafter. I parked the car up ahead, by the tree, in the shade. Then I got out of the car and walked over to the first gravestone I saw. Sure enough, it was Alex, my first cousin, once removed.
“Here he is,” says I.
“What? You found him already?” says she, and she walks over to check the stone. “That’s amazing. How did you do that?”
“I had a little help.”
Thanks for the directions, Alex. Rest in peace.