Jill's Journal: Memorial Day memories

A week prior to Memorial Day weekend, I steered my Buick east to Minnesota, more specifically, to the cemetery where my parent’s gravesite lies.

A few miles down the highway, tears began to line the bottom of my eyes as I thought about the purpose for my there-and-back trip.

I was sad, yes.

And I surely miss them.

But I felt some comfort in that moment knowing that both of them, after battling two very ugly earthly illnesses, are now better off in God’s home.

When I arrived at the cemetery, I steered my Buick to the south entrance of the cemetery, down the familiar gravel pathway to near the water pump that’s served as the landmark for the area in which their headstone lies. As always, the birds – yes, those darn birds – had “decorated” it multiple times in multiple areas. Fortunately, I came armed with cleaning supplies to wash it all away.

Next, I straightened the veterans star that commemorates my dad’s service in the U.S. Army. Then the memories of his stories began swirling through my mind. Dad was a proud veteran, and was even prouder of the long-term benefits that came with his service to our country. He told me stories over the years, sometimes the same stories, but I never once told him that I’d alreadh heard that story. 

Again, he was a proud veteran and he wanted me to know where he’d been and what he’d done.

My dad was never on the frontlines, and I was thankful for that, especially after hearing stories of war and fighting and death from veterans I’ve interviewed in my career.

Instead, he was assigned to transportation, fetching supplies and hauling equipment when and where it needed to go.

As my focus went back to cleaning up their gravesite, I began to tug at a few weeds that had taken up residency over mom’s plot of ground. I found it somewhat puzzling that in nearly two years since her burial, the grass has yet to fully fill in there. The weeds though, they sure found a way to root themselves.

My final task was to clear all of the mowed grass from around the base of the tombstone. It gathers in clumps each and every time the mowing crew does its thing. I always wonder why they can’t blow the grass another direction other than toward their headstone.

Then reality set in as I looked across the landscape that was dotted with one headsone after another. No matter which direction they mowed, the grass clippings were surely going to end up clumped up around the base of all of the headstones in the cemetery.

Next came the spray of sunflowers I purchased this year to decorate their gravesite. I decided that was the perfect flower to decorate mom and dad’s “home.”

I didn’t make the trip to their cemetery on Memorial Day. That day was reserved for taking in the programs here in Brandon and in Valley Springs. I always appreciate these programs. I know the importance behind the purpose of our three-day weekend in late May. I understand the sacrifices that so many gave for  al of our freedoms, and the sacrifices that so many continue to give yet today.

On Monday, I watched as families walked through the cemeteries, some pausing to read the information on headstones, others came with flowers to decorate the gravesite of their loved ones.

I imagine some of them also came armed with cleaning supplies, swept away grass clippings from the base of their loved one’s headstone and plucked a weed or two, and then decorated it with flowers all in the name of Memorial Day memories.