Memorial Day, that used to be called “Decoration Day,” is a time of remembering for me. Every year, our family took flowers to the little Darrington, Washington cemetery, and decorated the graves of of those who had gone on ahead of us. Neighbors did the same.
When spring brought more showers than May flowers, we still had gigantic bouquets of lilacs. Decades later, I wrote and sold an article titled, “Always Lilas and Fruit Jars” multiple times. Folks had no money for vases, so we washed fruit jars until they sparkled, filled them with water at the cemetery spigot, and honored both military and non-military friends and relatives.
We then drove to Snohomish and decorated family graves there. Aunt Vera always had snowballs to mingle with our lilacs. A huge family dinner followed. Precious memories.
Another special memory is that on Memorial Day weekend, 1978, Mom and I moved from Vancouver, Washington to my present home in Auburn, Washington. For forty-four years I have lived in a quiet, caring cul-de-sac. Neighbors watch after me as if I was their grandmother. A college student mows my lawn. A young woman and her family (I watched her grow from child to wife and mother) are doing massive yardwork for me. God and life are good.
May you pause in your busy schedule to give thanks for those who gave and still give so much that we might be free.