The weather this past Memorial Day weekend certainly did not provide ideal conditions for the typical picnics and family barbecues that one associates with the traditional kick-off of summer weekend. Many families likely found themselves spending their time indoors watching movies or playing board games, maybe even with the fireplace on to escape the chilly and damp days. We certainly are not going to complain about the rain though!

Despite the weather, my husband and I made our usual trips to the cemeteries to decorate graves. That is a tradition that was instilled in me at a very early age. I have fond memories of cemetery visits with my parents and younger brothers, and I was always interested in learning about our family history. I would listen intently as my father would explain how the person buried there was related to us, and the lineage from top to bottom.

We would often explore cemeteries together just for fun. It was, and still is, one of my favorite pastimes.

There is so much history there. Sometimes we would make a game out of trying to find the oldest grave marker, or the youngest and oldest buried there.

I also remember being sad. There were always lots of graves that had no flowers or decorations of any kind on them, and I recall as a very young girl feeling bad for those people that no one remembered them. I used to tell my parents, “When I grow up I am going to go around to the cemeteries and put flowers on all of the graves that don’t have any.” That may have been a sweet and noble thought, but, of course, I have not done that.

This year, as we were making our rounds, I began wondering if families still even do that together. Is the next generation being taught to remember? Is it even important to others like it is to me?

It was then, in the Ansley cemetery, that I saw it. A mom and dad, and three young children, decorating graves. The kids were running from one plot to another looking at the headstones and giggling. It brought memories flooding back to my mind, but more importantly, gave me hope.

Of course, I know that our loved ones are not actually there or even know if anyone visits their grave or not. But to me it is just the idea of not forgetting.

The older I get, the more graves I have to visit each year - family, friends. One day it will be my grave, and I guess there might be some prideful part of me that hopes someone will visit and put flowers on once a year.

That’s what Memorial Day is all about…remembering. We also made a stop at the Veteran’s Memorial in Ansley where I recognized many of the names on the wall that includes some of my family members. Maybe it was the gloomy weather, maybe it’s my older age, but for some reason the day seemed more poignant this year. It is important to share our memories, our stories, with the next generation - and to teach them to never forget.

Contact Ellen at: ellen@syndicatepub.com