I love all the little plastic and china figures of saints you find in the graveyard. Some graves are littered with them; some are placed lovingly near the headstone, most are scattered about the place. They have been displaced by the wind and left by neglect.
A few of the statues have been there for as long as I can remember, a triumph of the lasting power of plastic.
They were placed there by love and forgotten by time. Little dolls for the dead. Cheesy I know.