Most people who read this are not interested in my life. They don’t wish to read silly little things about someone that they have never met. However for my close friends and anybody kind enough to show interest in how I think. I’m going to share with you a very profound moment in my life.

In order to respect the privacy of the people involved in this I am not going to name names. However yesterday was a profound experience for me indeed.

One of my best friends has a sister who sadly and unfortunately had a miscarriage very late in the pregnancy. I’ve never really felt at ease with her because the child which lost his life shared a name with me. Although the spelling is different our names are pronounced in exactly the same way. Yesterday I went to visit the little boy’s grave which was in a local area, I don’t really know why but it seemed the right thing to do.

It was a dreay day. The skys were overcast, the air was chilled, the grass was plush under our feet. A light rain was falling. A truly Welsh day on the coast. A little chapel, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, completely lonely lost in the Welsh hills. This was where my friend’s family had come to for many things. He was christened there, his siblings were married there and Kai was buried in the graveyard outside.

My blood ran icy cold, my heart slowed and my nerves wavered as we approached the grave. There was no gravestone as such but merely some of Kai’s toys marking where the boy was laid to rest.

Being there was definitely on of the strangest moments of my life thus far. The fact that we completely coincidentally shared a name and that this person had had a contact (however small) with my life was enough to make me get sort of stuck in a kind of loop.

I’m an atheist…completely. I don’t believe in god or an afterlife but grave yards completely fly in the face of what I know. Looking at that grave my soul felt pressed, uneasy and stirring. From what I know I can’t explain it. It took my friend to drag me away and to try and lighten the mood before I sort of came out of it.

Thinking about the value of names they are incredibly valuable. If you consider Romeo and Juliette, ‘What is in a name?’ says Juliette musing to herself on her balcony. Unfortunately it’s all in the name, they die because of their names. If Romeo wasn’t a Montague there would be no problem. Without a name who are you? How can you achieve anything? Although it’s not impossible it would certainly be very hard to exist with no name at all.

It’s strange to think that in some far off corner of Wales a boy that I never knew but with the same name as me has a grave… chilling

I’m sorry If I offend anyone with this but I thought the experience was worth sharing.

Has anyone else experienced anything like this?