Another relative

On the morning of November first, just after elevensies, Uncle Peppy came to see me. He asked me if I would have time to accompany him to Brightdown, a nearby homestead. I said “Sure, Uncle Peppy! And how smart you are dressed today!”
“Well, it is a special occasion, a birthday.”
I thought I’d best put on a festive dress too, but Uncle Peppy said I was looking lovely as I was, so we took our ponies and went to Brightdown. He did not speak very much on the way and I was curious what thoughts were going round in his mind, but I decided not to ask him.
So, a birthday! I wondered who’s, but I knew I was about to find out. We reached the gates of Brightdown and Uncle Peppy said: “He likes flowers, we’d best pick some flowers” I looked around and saw beautifully tended gardens with a lot of nice flowerbeds. But surely Uncle Peppy would not want me to take flowers from them, so instead I picked lovely wild flowers that were still growing and blooming by the side of the road. I made a nice bouquet and Uncle Peppy smiled contently.
“Who are we going to see, Uncle Peppy? Who’s birthday is it today?” I could not wait any longer, I just had to ask.
“We’re nearly there now.” Uncle Peppy had not answered my question yet, but he dismounted and walked off the road, climbing a small hillock, towards a gorgeous waterfall. I followed.
He kneeled down, wiping some autumn leaves off a small rectangular stone. “Here lies my son Peregrin, Rubellita, today a year ago he was born.”
I was dumbfounded for quite some time. He took out his harp and played some of the loveliest tunes I had ever heard. I put the wildflower bouquet on Peregrin’s stone and just sat and listened to the notes from the harp combined with the rushing of the waterfall. It made my mind go completely blank.
Uncle Peppy stopped playing, sat down beside me and said: “Peregrin did not live long enough to see the world he was born into. And not long enough for me to see him.” I felt deeply sorry for both the infant and his parents. And immediately I thought of my own parents. Surely Yola had seen me, but maybe my father never had.  “Who is Peregrin’s mother?”, I wanted to know. Uncle Peppy looked at me and then bent over and whispered a name. I nodded, lost for words, now that I had learned about another relative: my cousin Peregrin.