Memorial Day weekend found Mary and me on a one-day trek to retrace some footprints of our respective pasts. And we made some memories for tomorrow.
First stop: Deal Cemetery in Ladelle. Along with James and Fran Daniel, Mary's uncle and aunt, we strolled casually among the gravestones.
A dead tree had fallen squarely between Jenny's and Mary's mother's graves, so we could do little cleanup. But we enjoyed the solitude as wind in the leaves whispered pleasant memories of departed friends and family.
Mary left a beautiful ceramic bunny on Jenny's headstone. It seemed a fitting reminder of the daughter whose mental retardation preserved her as our baby for 22 years.
Moseying south to Hamburg led to a table in Sawyer's, a quaint downtown restaurant. Claudia (our splendid waitress) and Mary successfully conspired to baffle James Daniel. It worked.
Next we popped in on Aunt Sis and Uncle Harold Tyson, daughters Judy and Tricia, and great-granddaughter Gracie. Their home always overflows with love–and food. When Aunt Sis compelled us to take huge bowls of peach cobbler straight from the oven, I acquiesced far too easily.
Carlock Cemetery, where my mother is buried, was next on the agenda. We raked two bags of leaves and puzzled over the huge oak tree conspicuously absent from our memories of 30 years ago.
I did recall, though, how the grave of a four-year-old had then been covered with bright toys. Only two rusty relics remain now, suggesting perhaps that his parents had passed on themselves.
We met an 80-something relative freshening the graves of two children and a husband. But she was cheerful in her painful losses–and quite hopeful of being able to endure whatever additional blows life might deal. And like Mama Daniel might have said it, she admonished, "You just have to keep going."
Heading toward home, we detoured in Monticello to visit Oakland Cemetery, where Uncle Willie Frank and Aunt Catherine Norrell are buried. The two simple headstones have almost-indiscernible inscriptions noting their respective tenures in the U.S. House of Representatives. Even though Uncle Willie Frank (who died in 1961) was surely one of Monticello's most influential citizens in his day, personal memories of him are quickly nearing extinction. Time does that.
The thought is sobering: it makes no difference whether our graves are emblazoned with the hallmark of high public office or casually marked with a little ceramic bunny. The march of generation upon generation, each with its own unique trials and struggles, will eventually leave us all behind.
But we mustn't be discouraged at the inevitability. The Bible reminds us (Psalm 118:24), "This is the day which the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it."
Today is the gift God has given to great and small alike, the universal currency He expects us to spend in ways that would please Him. Today must be expended in forging worthwhile memories for coming generations who will retrace the footprints of their own history.
Copyright 2002 James McAlister
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