While I was driving on May 27th, 2020, I talked into my phone and recorded my thoughts in my Notes App. So now, even though I’m typing later, my thoughts are still very real. My mind was exploding with thoughts that I wanted to put down, so here they are.)
“Every day is a Memorial Day now.
I’m making a trip today. It’s a trip I’ve made a lot of times. In fact, I feel like I have been making these kinds of trips my whole life.
This is another Memorial Day Weekend. I am on my way to the cemeteries to put flowers on the graves of people who are so dear to me. It always hurts. But, it feels like the right thing to do, so I continue to do it. The number of people I have lost keeps increasing and so the amount of graves I visit also keeps increasing.
For a lot of years, Mike went with me to do this job that I dreaded. But, since he has been gone I have been doing it by myself. One year, a good friend went with me, but I know she is busy this year. It is another part of life that I seem to do by myself.
I know my son would go with me if I asked him to go. But, I also know his little family needs him to enjoy the day with them doing something fun and this isn’t a trip that kids that little would enjoy. So I didn’t ask him. All of my children are at busy stages of their family life and I just want them to enjoy it. I really can’t say this is a type of day that I enjoy. I just do it.
Yes, I am very, very grateful for the people that have loved me and that I have loved who were such a vital part of my life. I am grateful for the love and their years of investing in me. So that is why I go. To honor them with a small, cheap, artificial flower that represents me taking time out of my life to visibly say that I miss them, still. And to thank God for them and their love.
I often wish that I had a sister or a brother or a parent to go with me to make this trip. Someone who has time to share and love. But, since I have none of those relationships at this stage of my life, then I just go alone.
When I was a little girl, we used to make a trip to Love Cemetery every year. I didn’t particularly want to go but I did enjoy going with the people who I went with.
I grew up with a dad who had been married to another woman who had died before he met my mom. So every year, he would put flowers on her grave, along with his children from that first marriage who were my half siblings. Frequently, they and their children would come up for the day. It was a fun time for me to see and play with my nieces and nephews who were about my age. We didn’t dwell on death. We just dwelled on enjoying the day together.
I’m sure it must have been a hard day for my mother in so many ways. But, she never let on and I never thought about it as a child. She helped gather fresh flowers and went along to the gravesite right along with us all, taking me.
As I got older, I often thought about how strange that might have been for everyone. But, it was normal for us. So I guess normal is whatever circumstance of life that you happen to be in. Just as this life I have now is my new normal that I wrote about in one of my posts.
For several years when we lived in another state, I was too far away to put flowers on the graves back home. I missed doing it, even as it was also a relief to know I had an excuse not to go. What a confession to make. But, I know people who have been in my shoes know what I mean.
I wonder how long this tradition of putting flowers on graves will last. More and more people seem to be cremated and don’t want to worry about a burial space. But, I decided long ago that I would just as soon turn to ashes in a box, rather than be burned up and stuck in an urn somewhere.
So, today I will visit my dear mother’s grave, her parents who were my only dear grandparents I every knew, my great grandparents who she loved dearly, her baby brother who she grieved over, and my dear aunt and uncle.
I will also go to Love Cemetery where my dear dad is buried beside his first wife in the grave we used to visit when I was a child, and to the grave where my dear half sister, who was more like a second mom to me, is buried.
Then, I will travel to another town in Kansas where I will visit the graves of my husband’s parents and grandparents.
Then I will go to the hardest grave of them all.
Every time I pull in the national cemetery where my husband is buried, I remember why he wanted to be buried there. He was so proud of being a veteran and to have served in the Armed Forces for his country. It is a place where you have to have earned the right to be buried there. Although he did not die while serving his country, he gave an important piece of his life to serving his country and it affected him his whole life.
Sometimes, I think many people think the only people buried there are the ones who died while serving. But, anyone who served can be buried there if they choose. Their wives also can be buried there if they choose. I think some people question why wives are buried there. Here’s why. The spouses have given a piece of their life for the country, too. It’s only right that the spouse should be buried there if they want to. The wife’s name is usually on the back of the headstone.
So, as I pull in the gates of this somber, beautiful place with the rows and rows of white stones, each symbolizing a hero or perhaps two, it is very hard to stop the tears from still flowing. I always feel like I am visiting his grave at least 25 years too soon.
But, I always try to remind myself that he lived a very full life cram packed with activity, love and joy in his 63 years. In many ways, he did more than most people do in a longer lifetime.
I am grateful for the time we had together. I am grateful that my life is better because of him and his love.
Since I am an hour and a half away, I don’t come to his gravesite very often. On Memorial Day, the cemetery is exceptionally pretty with flags placed at every grave. I try to always put red flowers by his stone because that was his favorite color and I know that’s what he would pick.
I have taken pictures by his gravestone at various times. Other family members have, too. Some may find that morbid, but for us, it is just a piece of our life. I never wanted my children to have to go to the grave of a parent so soon in their lives. I was 29 when my daddy died and that was too soon.
I also wish our grandchildren could’ve really got to know him. They know his picture. But only the four oldest kids really remember him in any of their memories. We try to keep his memory alive and talk about him so that the younger ones will know about him. But, they have all missed so much. Death is truly a robber.
I don’t know what I would do without my faith in God, and knowing that Jesus Christ rose from the grave. That is promised to us and eternal life with Him if we believe in Him. That gives meaning beyond the grave.
So, I’m glad that some day Jesus is going to gather His own. The Bible says that the dead in Christ will rise first and we who are ready, will join them in the air.
That is what the beauty of the resurrection is for those who believe in Jesus Christ. Our God is not dead. He is not buried. He is alive and well. Just as our loved ones who believed in Jesus are alive and well today.”
As I typed this later, the words are still true. My faith in Christ helps me to live this life and to look forward to the next one.