HEIRLOOM

Chapter 3

The following morning, we set off to the cemetery after enjoying a delicious breakfast with Alex's family.

The cemetery is located at the other end of the town, about a twenty-minute walk away. As we make our way along the only road that leads in that direction, it becomes clear that the term "road" is a generous one. The dilapidated surface is riddled with potholes, making it almost impassable for even agricultural machinery. It's clear that major repairs are needed to restore it to a functional state. Nonetheless, we press on, determined to pay our respects to Gabriela's relatives and find the grave of her grandfather.

Gabriela is aware of the burial places of her mother and grandmother, but has no recollection of her grandfather's grave. Despite our efforts, we were unable to locate any records of his death or any information in the cemetery archives. Prior to our arrival, I had already made a request for this information. Thus, we are left to rely solely on our own resources.

"Can you recall any details about your grandfather's tombstone?" I inquire, turning to Gabriela. She trails behind, gathering daisies to adorn the graves.

"It was a large, rectangular stone of dark gray hue with a small oval photograph encased in glass," she replies with a sigh as she weaves the flowers into a wreath.

"Ah, at least we have something to go on! Hall Stone, here we come!" I exclaim, clapping my hands.

Gabriela chuckles and warns, "Don't be so ambiguous with your jokes!"

"Yes, it's not funny!" Alex grumbles, his face contorted in a frown, as we make our way to the cemetery. Throughout the journey, he remains taciturn, speaking only a few words.

As we set out this morning, I wonder if his mood was due to a fight with Isabel. They argued over something and she didn't come out to see us off, which was unusual, but I didn't ask any questions.

Finally, the white, wide-open gates of the cemetery come into view ahead of us. As we enter, a small avenue leads us to paths that wind all the way through the thicket of the forest. To the left, we spot a small stone building, entwined with ivy and hops. A large oak tree, with its spreading crown, almost completely obscures the building from prying eyes, creating a sense of seclusion and peace.

I retrieve my camera from my backpack and begin to adjust the focus, hoping to capture a few pictures. Suddenly, Alex stops me in my tracks with an abrupt warning, "The photography and videography are prohibited

in the cemetery. This is not a gallery! It disturbs the peace of the deceased souls. We must respect their final resting place."

I scrutinize his expression, trying to determine if he's joking or being serious.

"Are you serious? Do you believe in such nonsense?" I can't help but burst out laughing.

"I'm not joking," Alex snaps angrily. "Please listen to what I'm telling you. You can't teach an old dog new tricks. So, I kindly ask you to respect our traditions."

"I will," I mutter, feeling a pang of resentment and indignation. I am truly incensed by the superstitious restrictions imposed upon me, a person who is free from prejudice.

"Also, please speak and act more quietly. We are in a cemetery, not a marketplace," Alex insists, with a stern tone.

Suddenly, I remember about the photograph we are looking for, "Wait a minute - what should we do when we come across a photograph of Gabriela's grandfather?" I ask, desperation etched onto my features. 'Should we take it with us?'"

Alex exhales deeply, tilting his head to the side in contemplation. "You may capture that one," he responds, his face displaying a grave expression.