Dear Family,
Happy memorial day.
Happy memorial day.
This was always such an important day for mother, and it was my
favorite holiday for many years. When I was growing up, I always looked
forward to May 30th. It wasn't made a Monday a three day holiday until
the mid 60's. Danielle was born the day after Memorial Day. That
Memorial day in 1963 was one of the few days my mother missed putting
flowers on 20 or more graves.
When I was a child and didn't feel responsible for anything, I
loved going to Pleasant Grove. Walking around the cemetery with my
parents, we always met family members that we hadn't seen for at least a
year. I followed mother as she went from grave to grave, telling me
the history of each person. On each grave she would leave a homemade
flower arrangement. Then we went to Aunt Dean's for dinner. I don't
remember the food, although I am sure it was delicious. I remember the
people. I thought my aunts, uncles and cousins were the most remarkable
people in the world. I loved to listen to them talk. One year as the
women were washing the dishes in Aunt Deane's tiny kitchen, someone
dropped and broke a small salad plate. I was too young to help, and
mother knew I wasn't to be trusted with Aunt Dean's "good china."
Mother, Aunt Margaret, Aunt Dean, Aunt Thelma and my cousin Mary all
cried. The dishes had come from Germany, made before the 2nd World War
and the pattern was not replaceable. I decided that day that I would
never own anything that if broken could ruin even a wonderful time
together as was our Memorial Day gathering.
I am sure part of the wonder of those days was the
fact that school was out. The long summer months all lay ahead. No
matter how great each summer was, it never measured up to that mystical
feeling of "anything was possible" at the beginning of summer.
Later in my mother's life, going to the cemetery became an
ordeal. Mother worried for weeks about having enough flowers, about
forgetting a grave she usually decorated. For years we loaded up the car
with flowers, mother still wore her "good clothes," and we went to the
cemetery.
Aunt Dean died in 1980. Her death and changing the day to a
three day weekend, changed my life. We still made the trip, but other
family members often came to the cemetery on a different day. We rarely
would see anyone we knew. While Aunt Margaret was alive, we would stop
and visit with her. But the Memorial Days of my childhood were gone.
Today, Milt and I rode out to the Newton and the Clarkston
Cemeteries. It was cold and the windy. We placed flowers on some of the
graves, all the pots were purchased, none lovingly gathered from our own
yard. We thought about those who have died, and I felt guilty that I
didn't make the trip to Pleasant Grove. Even when take flowers, our
actions seem to be meaningless.
This memorial day, I am grieving for a lost tradition. I am
grieving for a wonderful opportunity to spend time with family that no
longer exists. Once again, the most wonderful thing in the world, is
family. We need to make changes so that we keep the important part of
this holiday alive. The remembering of those who have gone on before,
and the celebration of those who are still here.
Love each of you with all my heart.
-Dianne