Does anyone still call it Decoration Day??? I know that's what my grandma always called it. The day at the end of May when we take time to remember the fallen soldiers and give thanks for their service. The day we put flags on the veterans graves and flowers on the graves of loved ones.
Today, Frank and I took the kids to the cemeteries where our loved ones have been laid to rest.
First, we visited Mt. Vernon. We saw the graves of my Grandpa Winans, Grandma Josephine, and Elma (my step-grandma). We saw the graves of Great Grandma and Grandpa Murphy and Great Grandma and Grandpa Winans. I shared stories with the kids of what I knew of the great-grandparents and Grandma Josephine (she died before I was born...I'm not sure what to even call her...maybe Grandma Jo? That's what I call her in my mind) And memories of Grandpa Winans and Elma.
Next, we went to Mt. Zion. This is the first church I remember attending. I must have been about four years old. It was a traditional Methodist church. I remember the hymn books and putting my nickle in the collection plate. I remember sitting with Grandma and Grandpa Wagner. We visited their graves today. I didn't remember to bring flags. This little cemetery doesn't get all decked out like Mt. Vernon. Mt. Vernon is glorious in it's patriotic splendor. Flag poles line the drive-way and small flags are placed on each veterans grave. My Grandpa Wagner was a veteran but he didn't have a flag on his grave at Mt. Zion....next year, though. I'm so thankful that Amber can remember my Grandma Wagner. Amber was five years old when she passed away, so she has a few memories of our visits to West Virginia. And she still has the baby doll that Grandma gave her. Unfortunately, Andrew was only two years old and doesn't remember. We saw other Wagner graves and the names were vaguely familiar. I remember reading them in the family tree but I don't know anything about them....who they were or what their personalities were like or even their occupations.
Our final stop was at the cemetery on Gum Mountain. This cemetery is like Mt. Zion...there were no flags for the veterans. Frank and I have several family members right beside each other on this plot of land. His dad, Pappy, Frank's grandma, Aunt Patty, and my little cousin Diane. We left flowers and shared stories with the kids.
One thing we noticed about some of the graves is there is a "birth" date but no "death" date. Sometimes it was because the folks had purchased their tombstone in advance (like my parents) and are still "living the dash". Sometimes it's because one spouse has passed on while the other is still "living the dash" (like Frank's Mom).
Frank told the kids that he and I would be buried at the Veterans Cemetery near Pruntytown. But I'd rather Jesus come back first. I'd much rather be caught up in the sky with the Lord than be put in a hole in Pruntytown.
Amber said she didn't care if she was put in a cardboard box as long as she had a pretty headstone. Such conversation!
We ended up singing a song we used to sing from Calvary Chapel in Florida. The chorus goes like this:
It don't matter where you bury me
Cause I'll be home and I'll be free
It don't matter where I lay
All my tears be washed away.
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