Connections

It was Memorial Day weekend, 2010. On Saturday, we drove with Julia and her family to Granbury. The purpose was to change the silk flowers on my parents' grave. They share a headstone, and it only has one vase. I suspect that was a decision made by my frugal German mother! The cemetary rules are, suprisingly, no fresh flowers. I guess they would rather have artificial ones fade, droop and eventually diminsh with pounding from the north Texas wind than ask the maintanence crew to blow away faded natural flowers. Oh, well... I try to replace the arrangement at least once or twice a year. Usually I can find red or yellow roses (Mother's favorites) on sale at Hobby Lobby; again, that German influence. But Daddy was Irish, and he loved to get the roses with the acrylic dew drops because they looked like tears for Mother. So, I always look for those to satisfy my sentimental Irish side!

The drive from Denton was pleasant; Our son-in-law, David, drove and the kids were occupied with a video and some games. When we arrived at the cemetary we all needed to stretch our legs after an hour or so in the car. Julia did her best to show the kids to be respectful of the graves. But I think the concept of people being buried under the grass escaped them.

While I was busy with the flowers my mind wandered to the two funerals of my parents. In my mind I saw Daddy and I sitting, both a little bewildered, watching cousins place roses on top of Mother's casket. It was a hot day, four days after Mother's birthday and only a week before Julia's wedding. And less than 3 years later I was there again for Daddy's service. The Air Force Honor Guard was over to the left performing a 21 gun salute. I remembered standing to receive a flag from a colonel who had just told the story of my dad's actions in WWII; how he had received the Silver Star, Distinguished Service Cross, and Purple Heart. Today, three of my grandchildren were chasing butterflies across the area.

It's funny, coming back to a place which is loaded with so much emotion. At the time of the funerals I never imagined coming back there with busy grandchildren. Tanner, age 7, was fascinated with the name "Quinn" on the headstone because he knows that's his own middle name. I'd love to bring my other grandson, Quinn, here for obvious reasons! It's important for these boys to grasp the connection to their great-grandparents.

My knees were aching from tending to the flowers and my son-in-law, always sensitive to others, appeared with the floormats from his car for me to kneel on! He didn't realize he brought a tear to my eye doing that.

When I make that trip to Granbury, it is often solitary and hasty. I usually meet a friend for lunch, so I'm in a hurry. But today I'm struck by butterflies instead of the sound of rifles, the kindness of a young man I barely knew at the first funeral, and the sweet connection from one generation to another.