So while we were in the first the gnarly cemetery in Edinburgh, I was walking around reading each headstone. I had a strange urge to only read all the last names in the place, and I found one that stopped me in my tracks: Drybough. James Drybough, died in 1803.
Him and most of his family are buried in the same plot of land. I felt this strange connection to the grave, even before I read the last name. I am convinced that I’m related to him. My family has always said that our last name was at one point shortened from either Drybough or Dryden (two prominent Scottish surnames). I’m tempted to change my last name back to the original form now.
Hopefully I can track down my family in Glasgow and ask them about him.
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