Keeping It Real: A Proper Memorial Day Post

In hindsight, it seems so obvious that I should have saved my stream of irritated and snippity remarks for a day other than Memorial Day. Ranting over trivial matters was nothing less than selfish. What I should have acknowledged with my spat over the oven and the smoke detector was that the experience made me appreciate those spouses who hold the fort down at home while the other serves our country protecting our freedoms, often many months at a time. I go without my spouse for a mere summer. Many of these families can go 12, 13, even 18 months without seeing each other. That's a lot of oven and smoke detector problems to deal with on their own. I am so grateful for their sacrifices.

The gloomy weather that plagued us on Memorial Day finally disappeared in the early evening. It was a sight to see the sun at last! I loaded up the children and we drove down to Benjamin's gravesite. We spent a little time looking for his marker in Provo cemetery's Angel Garden. It turned out I parked Ruby's stroller about 3 feet from it. While I was searching, my heart ached for the rows and rows of babies who died so young. I was overwhelmed with how much sorrow and pain there was in that Garden. Savannah, however, was excited to see so many flowers in one place at one time. To her it was a dream come true. Cade enjoyed being on the hunt for Ben's name and in the meantime found headstones with names of people in our family. First names anyway. It was a little "game" for him. I can;t deny my pleasant surprise at what a seemingly joyous place going to the cemetery was on Memorial Day. Many families and friends brought lawn chairs and sat around visiting with one another around particular headstones. Many children ran around the grass. There were some who stood tearfully at a headstone full of fresh pain, but for the most part, it was a very hopeful sight to see.

Once I found the site, my throat closed and I couldn't speak. He wasn't my very own, but I still shed tears for the cousin my children will have to wait a very long time to meet again, and for the son Randy and Kristen will have to wait so long for to raise. I am grateful we have the gospel to provide us with that peace and comfort of knowing we will see him again. But I ache for their aches.

I thought of my Grandpa, and cousin's little boy Michael, who are buried next to each other. It seems death has become a familiar part of our lives lately, and I suppose that is part of life. I have been thinking of our sweet babysitter Samie, who lost a dear, dear friend suddenly and so unexpectedly just days ago. I keep thinking she is far to young to have to experienced such a tragedy. She has held up remarkably well and it amazes me how she keeps trucking despite the ache in her heart.

All day long we thought and spoke of my mother-in-law Mary and I took spent some time on my back patio with purple fragrant lilacs blooming everywhere. Mary loved flowers and she loved purple. It made me sad to think I'll never get to sit back there and enjoy it with her, because I know she would have. I'm sad for her children, I'm sad for her mother, and I am so very sad for Don.

A number of years ago when myself and my fellow housemates and volunteers were saying our farewell speeches before heading back to the states after a 3 month stay in Ecuador, I have never forgotten what one girl named Lori offered to us, heartbroken girls with tears streaming down our cheeks. She said, "I know you will miss those sweet little orphans. Each of their own little personalities and the happiness that shone through them so willingly, even though they had so little. It's okay to be sad and heartbroken to leave. It means they touched you. Let your experiences with them change you. Allow the ache in your heart to motivate you to action, to do something good in the name of these darling, special children."

I feel the same way about the people in our midst who have died. Allow the hurt to change us and motivate us to do actions for good and allow their legacy to live on.