Ever since I was a child,the Saturday leading up to the Memorial Day,was the day my family went out to buy and deliver flowers,to my grandparents grave.
This ritual was an important part to the start of the upcoming summer,it meant fun would soon be upon us with swimming and picnics.
But first we needed to focus on the importance of those who could no longer be with us.
There was something wonderful about walking around the cemetery watching all the cars pull up,people walking to the various Head stones to plant or deliver their flowers to a waiting vase.
This loving gesture was proof to me that their was something more besides this planet,that we lived on,these were not bones in a grave,but real people who lived and loved and maybe died to young.
I can remember walking and looking at the different stones,the great and the small,the new and the old,those that were well taken care of and those lost in time and leaning a little to the side.
Who were these men and women,what where their lives like and how did they live and die?
With the grass so well maintained and the smell of the flowers every where,this quite,peaceful setting almost seemed joyful.
This Memorial Saturday,I decided that since I could not be at the Memorial Day Parade on Monday,due to my work schedule.
I would some how find a way to remember a soldier or two,whose grave seemed lonely.
First I headed to Putnam,Conn.where my material grandparents are laid to rest and wandered around until I saw a grave of a man who served in the Korean War.
No flowers sat by his head stone and I felt this was the one I needed to leave my lily by.
Next on to North Grosvenordale Cemetery,where my parents and brother lay and with my last pot of flowers,I saw a white washed,paint peeling wooden cross,which bore no name or date.
Thinking this a rather sad sight,I decided that since I don't know whose buried here,maybe a soldier,why not leave it at the cross in honor of all the soldier asleep in this cemetery.
Sunday when we attended Church Service Fr. Peter spoke about Memorial Day being not just for the Soldiers but also for all Christens who have lost their lives fighting for their beliefs.
It became clear to me that this was what I had done,with out any knowledge.
One pot of flowers left for a soldier and one pot of flowers for those who have given their lives for the faith.
Both of whom have given us our God given right to live as we choose and to pray in faith,not fear.
Because of both we live in a country with freedom of choice..