Memorial Day-Year Two

Yesterday was Memorial Day, a time to thank those that had given so much for the cause of freedom, as well as to remember those that have passed.    Yesterday my Dad and I traveled to all the cemetaries locally that we have family or friends buried.  We went to a small cemetary in Upland where my Dad's childhood friend lies and put down a grapevine deer that my Mom had bought for just that purpose many years ago.  It was a feeling of closure finishing something she had started and brought my Dad the same feeling.  We then traveled to Fairmount to place some flowers on the grave of my paternal Grandmother and Grandfather.  We cleaned up around the stones and placed flowers.  For you movie buffs out there, this is the same cemetary that James Dean is buried in-but I digress.  We then made the long trip north to Gardens of Memory to lay flowers on my Grandparents, my recently departed Aunt and Uncle and my Mother's graves.  The cemetary was bustling with activity.  There were flags everywhere, cars parked everywhere, and cemetary employees everywhere.

It made me think.  Normally these places are pretty solitary.  When I visit them, my Dad and I, or my husband and I are usually one of very few people there.  I began to think about my own mortality, as cemetaries are wont to make you do.  I have no children and will, unless God intervenes, have none.  My husband and I will be buried in the same area that my Mom and one day my Dad will inhabit.  Our hope is that somebody will continue to decorate the graves when I'm gone and since we near by, just happen to drop a couple of roses on ours.  But this also made me think.  Does that matter to me?  It matters to who is left, of course, but should it matter to me?  It mattered to my Mom and does to many, but I am quite sure, I won't care too much when I'm gone.  Even if I had kids, it would be no guarantee that I would have flowers on my grave.  Case in point.  Though my Uncle and Aunt had flowers on their grave yesterday that their children must have placed, most of the time, I am the only person that puts them out.   They have children and grandchildren that live close, but I put them out. 

So it begs the question.  What does it say about people that have nothing on their graves.  I visit cemetaries on a fairly regular basis.  Being a history nut, I like to see where historical figures lay.  So I see all sorts of graveyards in all sorts of conditions.  Most of the ones I visit are very old and though these people are fairly famous, they seldom have anything at their graveside.  Unless you are Stonewall Jackson or someone equally as famous, eventually, as generations pass, where you lie will be forgotten. 

So, for future geneologists, who will be tramping around Gardens of Memory is Huntington, IN., wondering about my tick on the family tree,   I've made it easy for you to find me.  I'm close to Karen and Richard, Robert and Helen, Bruce and Judy and Una.  I'm not too far away.  Pretty much the way it has been my whole life.

So, Memorial Day year two, that is, two years since my Mom's death, was relaxing and uneventful.  Though provoking, as it always is, but ok.