Yesterday, George and I spent the entire morning at the cemetery where our son is buried. We went, not to be maudlin, but to feel the peace of shared grief, to pay tribute to the military heroes commemorated by this day, and to express feelings of love for our son.
We were touched by the thousands of flower arrangements placed lovingly on the graves, and knew they represented a family member or friend taking the time to share love and memories. In fact, there were several large family groups circled around grave sites and talking--some folks were even sitting in lawn chairs or on blankets sharing stories and passing on the legacy to the little ones of the family.
We listened to the music of several bands, and shed a few tears when the Scottish bag-pipers played their selection of tunes. It was a good day and a difficult day. We know it will be difficult for a long time. We know the pain is the price we pay for having loved our son so much.
Memorial Day has taken on a deeper significance.