As a lapsed Catholic, I am often critical and/or scornful of the traditions in which I was raised. That’s my issue, no one else’s. Recently, Grace crept in and allowed me to see what I’ve kept at arm’s length for decades. There is merit in the practice of formalized religion.
This post isn’t about that topic because my thoughts immediately took off on an alternate plane. The “joys” of ADHD. I looked around at the many mourners, at a recent funeral, and realized we had much in common. Most of us are the offspring of the Greatest Generation. And just as that generation has mostly left us, it’s now our turn.
I don’t mean this in a maudlin sense. I’m proud to be a Boomer. Our existence is due to a generation that weathered many storms. They strove for us to have better opportunities than they. In turn I cast my memory’s sights on all I’ve experienced in my lifetime. It is indeed a privilege to grow old. Nothing is promised. Nothing.
And, so, my mind revisits the intent of my post…our annual observance of Memorial Day, originally called Decoration Day. After the Civil War, it became a tradition for families to visit the cemeteries and clean the areas in which the markers stood, especially for those who died in war. As a further celebration of the fallen, these families gathered for picnics. This was their method of honor.
For years, along with my mom, I spent time honoring my family at two local cemeteries. We would clean up any branches or limbs overhanging and sweep the stones clean. I learned a great deal about the personalities of some of the older family members. Our outing often culminated in a light picnic while sitting in lawn chairs adjacent to our family.
Never has a cemetery created trepidation in my mind. For me, they are beautiful places of repose. The two I frequent are large and historic. They are wonderful places to walk and observe. In one cemetery my descendants lie in two separate family plots. The original contains a Civil War veteran. The contemporary plot holds WWI, WWII, and Korean War veterans.
I make time to visit and honor their sacrifices. None were lost through war, but war shaped their lives nonetheless. And, because of their efforts, here we are. Now we are ushering our contemporaries, we offspring of the Greatest Generation, into eternity having spent our lives in a civilization that did indeed offer us a plethora of paths for success. I choose to honor my family members, and all who have served. We can’t begin to understand what they experienced in order for us to retain our ways of life.
Stories Are For Eternity 