Husband and I live in Maryland. Daughter ‘n’ Son-in-Law, and grandkids live in New Jersey. My mother and stepfather are buried in New Jersey at the end of a row, under a tree, next to a wide open field. As a beautiful and wonderful and thoughtful Mother’s Day gift to me, the kids cleaned the graves, landscaped around the tree, took Before and After pictures. (Itchy Ryan and Pouty Samantha don’t seem all that thrilled to be posing.) But, anyway . . . there is just one wee problem. See the sorta new grave to the left of my mother’s bronze plaque? That’s MY grave site! Someone is buried in my grave, and unless I am living in a parallel universe, it isn’t me! I called the cemetery. The very pleasant woman who answered the phone said, “Let’s see what happened.” Um . . . we know what happened . . . sigh.