For some people Memorial Day is all about the lake and sleeping. Growing up for me it was about sleeping and a day off from school - the kick off to summer. But, every Memorial Day my dad would wake up 'early' usually with one of my older sisters and head up north. No, they weren't headed for the lake.
They were driving toward memories.
Before I was even a twinkle in my parents eyes, my dad's parents passed away. I was never lucky enough to meet them. But every Memorial Day weekend some of the family jumps into our big blue 8 passenger van and head north - towards memories - towards my dad's history. We visit, clean, and put flowers next to my grandparent's grave.
We relive my dad's memories.
When I was in high school I started traveling north with my dad. Maybe at first it was for our yearly ice cream stop in Fremont. Over the years though it became much more. It was a trip down memory lane. It was tradition. We would visit my grandparents grave, along with my dad's Grandparents, place flowers and clean it all up.
It became Tradition. Something that I would never change.
It became Tradition. Something that I would never change.
I was never blessed to know my grandparents, but I am lucky enough to have this day where we visit their grave and we talk about memories. And that in itself are memories to hold onto.
2 comments:
Lovely thoughts and lovely post!
Thanks! :-)
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