I have grown accustom to seeing these memorials along highways and in the shadows underneath over passes, but it's still fairly uncommon to encounter them next to a sidewalk on a city street. Many of the ones I've seen appear to be makeshift, constructed (I often imagine) in the heat of the moment or for a one time visitation. But this one reflects a more fixed and permanent plan. The cross is marked by the remembered person's name and flowers appear rather regularly by its side.
Though it's about a block from my home, I have yet to catch a glimpse of who replaces the flowers. In absence of knowing this person, the memorial strikes me in different ways. Sometimes walking by, it pushes thoughts of the transient and arbitrary nature of our existence into my mind. Sometimes it simply fills me with an odd voyeuristic compulsion to catch a glimpse of the memorial's caretaker. Yet other times I find myself daring myself to touch the memorial--the same way you dare yourself to touch the body at a wake.


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