Final May Musing - Memorial Day Memories

 

Around Memorial Day, I start to think about what I used to do on this weekend. I did it for quite a few weekends and now, they are treasured memories. In my 20s I had a rocky relationship with my parents, but I had a close relationship with my grandparents. They would help me fly out to visit over Memorial Day weekend. The weekend would unfold with them picking me up from the airport in Omaha. I have never seen two people so excited to see me. I am enfolded in their warm embrace and there is much chatter about the flight and if I am hungry. A quick stop in to the Garden Cafe, for a large delicious cinnamon roll (we probably ate other things but this is what I remember). Then we would drive back to Exira. On the way back, we would talk in the car about what I had been up to and what they had been up to. Once back to the farm, we would take a quick stroll around the farm, taking note of what flowers were blooming and which ones were not. That evening, a quick bite to eat and lots of laughing at the kitchen table and maybe a movie to end the day. The next day, we would spend some time tracking down flowers for the graves. Each of the relatives had their favorites. I wish I could remember all of them, but today I remember that my grandfather's mom loved hydrangeas. Usually there would be some blooming on the farm that we would cut and take, but sometimes we would head into Audubon or Atlantic to see what the florist had - or if we could find some fake flowers that looked realistic, that way we could leave them longer. Usually by this time we were discussing the Tivoli Festival held in Elk Horn - would we attend the Fireman 's Aebleskiver breakfast? Usually the answer was yes. Sometimes we were joined by my grandma's sisters. We would all head out in the car and go to Elk Horn to get in line for aebleskivers and sausage or bacon, coffee or juice, and sit community style on long tables while watching the firemen make breakfast for the community. We would talk and laugh, and run into people that my grandparents knew. Usually they talked about who had died or who was graduating. Sometimes they would talk about class reunions or how they thought the crops would be this year. A couple of times we would head into town and watch the parade or walk around the town seeing the booths and admiring the flowers on display for the festival. Grandpa would talk about his Danish roots. On Memorial Day there was usually a special service in the cemetery. Sometimes we would attend, and other times we would not. One of the last times I went to take care of my Grandma before she passed, I had to be the adult and tell her we could either go and see the lights at the cemetery or we could attend the service, but we could not do both. She decided on going to see the lights. Her friend Ann, came to pick us up and drive around looking at all of the solar light flowers and arrangements on the graves. It was a beautiful night, lots of stars, not too warm and not too cool. Grandma could not walk as well and so Ann drove us up and down and we pointed out the ones we liked best. Grandma wanted some, so I promised I would order her some. When they arrived, she decided they were too pretty to use on the graves and put them on her front lawn to enjoy in the evenings. 

When I quit coming - I may have been in my 30s - I missed coming for this weekend. One on one time with my grandparents and I would listen to them tell stories for hours. I would return a few times here and there, but it got harder to get away with my responsibilities and when I moved to Washington, it was not as easy to just head to Iowa for a long weekend.

My parents are there this weekend. I am hopeful they are doing what my grandparents used to do. Walk among the family plots, reminiscing about those who have passed and what they loved. Talking about challenging times, happy times, sad times, and how fleeting life really is. My grandparents always talked about death - as a part of life. The cycle of things. They talked of those who left too soon, and those who were lost due to life circumstances swallowing them. As farmers born and raised, they never shied away from death or the death process. I know they grieved, but it did not look like what I imagined grief to look like. It never made them bitter. 

Today and most days, I think of those who have left this world. I know some who were young, who were old, some who I felt it was too soon, and those that seemed to be here one day and gone the next. Each of those that I have lost, I still remember. It could be a bird's song in the wind, a scent, words spoken in my head or aloud. My heart feels tender today, remembering the dead. I hope I can honor their memory daily.

The photo is of my grandparents on a much loved trip to Hawaii - I scanned the slides in 2010. 

Today I am grateful for knowing my grandparents - really getting to know them. I think this is something not everyone gets to do. Hours of sitting and listening to their stories, fears, triumphs, romance, and so much more. I was fortunate to have my grandmother until I was nearly 49 years old. She passed March 29, 2019.