When I was little, my family would visit the graves of my mom, Gerry, and her sister, my Aunt Dot every Memorial Day. I don’t know if other families did that but those were my Granny’s only two children and she outlived them both so when our family coordinated the arrangements for the weekend BBQ, the visits were always part of the schedule.
I do not remember being afraid of visiting cemeteries, it was just something you did. They were always beautiful this time of year and one of the quietest places I had ever been, even more so than the library. And so many stories. Each headstone marked a lifetime (however long or short) of memories for that person and those who knew them.
My Aunt Dot was buried in a military cemetery because my Uncle Carey had been in the Army and it was beautiful. So much care and taken for each and every plot. And on Memorial Day weekend, an American Flag for all.
When I studied abroad I college, a friend and I took a trip to Paris for the weekend. We had no money and were committed to only free excursions. I am not sure how I found out about it but I want to go to Pere Lachaise cemetery. Strangely, my friend did not want to go spend the day at a cemetery with me.
This post started a family conversation about starting up the tradition again and I’m excited to have that experience as an adult.