Having climbed Apparition Hill at dawn, we were heading back into town when I spotted this cemetery. Drawn to it for some reason, we stopped.
It wasn’t the statuary – there is very little.
It wasn’t the landscaping – it’s not all that remarkable.
But there was something.
I wandered around the graves wondering, as always, whether I’d like to be buried or cremated. I go back and forth but am increasingly leaning towards the latter. So many cemeteries are not being looked after.
This one was, though. And it is expanding.
It was strange to see the unadorned precast concrete above-ground burial vaults standing ready. Waiting.
One headstone had a curious mosaic. I think it’s an image of Mary showing her baby to her parents, Joachim and Anna.
As always, the grave of a child gives pause for thought. I’d notice this again in other cemeteries: specific dates don’t seem to be that important.
I wandered some more, reading the headstones and wondering what it was that had drawn me in.
And then I found it.
What happened? Did he die while on a pilgrimage? Did he say he wanted to be buried in Medjugorje? Or maybe he wasn’t fussed and reckoned wherever was easiest worked.
The internet, for all its faults and foibles, is a wonderful resource.
From what I gather, Harry and his wife Thomasina, visited Jelsa, Croatia, in 1987. They fell in love with the place and decided to retired there. Devout Catholics, they learned the language and fully assimilated into the community. During the Homeland War (1991-1995). Thomasina, who had been in the Land Army in London during the Second World War, volunteered with defence activities. In 1996, when the couple were visiting Međugorje, Harry had a heart attack and died.
Their son, Martin, was a prominent tour operator in the region. He passed in 2024.
May their souls rest in peace.
