About a month ago, I visited the family cemetery mentioned below. The grass had been cut, but a lot of “settling” caused several headstones to topple over and others to sink in.
I stopped at the area where my mother, grandmother, and uncles are buried. I reminisced about the time one of my uncles promised to buy me a Wanda Wee-wee doll for Christmas, and the time my grandmother tried beer but added sugar because it tasted “awful” on it’s own.
And then there was Mama.
I thought about how she taught me a lot of life skills at a young age. They’ve proven quite effective in my decision-making as an adult. And I remembered the time I begged for a Knit-Wit kit to make quilts and crafts with a rainbow of colors. When it rained, she’d put on records we’d borrowed from the library while we twisted yarn around the Knit-Wit tools. At best, I made the pom-pon tassels for the corners of the quilt my mom finished.
I attempted to locate my great-aunt’s plot, but wasn’t able to. As I walked around, I felt a sadness. Not just because my loved ones are gone. Rather, the cemetery was empty. There were no flowers -no weather-battered artificial bouquets or anything.
It made me think about how we remember our loved ones after they leave this earth. Should it matter that we leave flowers or are the memories enough?
Memorial Day is a time to remember the men and women in the armed forces who have served our country and lost their lives defending it. Cemeteries are adorned with flags and flowers to not only celebrate these lives, but also honor them.
But for me, Memorial Day has additional meanings. One, it’s a day my family and friends come together to barbecue and fellowship. Sometimes this is the only quality time we have together. We talk about days of ole and catch up on the latest happenings in each others’ lives. It’s a joyous occasion.
Two, I’m reminded of the diligence of my great-aunt Dollie who made it her mission to
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