Over the Memorial Holiday we made a trip to the family cemetary.  It’s where all my family are buried.  In fact my great-grandfather donated the land for the church and cemetary in the early 1800’s.  My maiden name was Gruver, as you can see on these tomb stones.  We took a wreath out to place on my parents grave.

Then I visited my aunts and uncles, and all my brothrs and sisters.  I am the youngest in our immediate family and the only one still alive.  We had a little family renion that day.  I told my husband to bring me a chair and let me just stay there.  Holidays are for family gatherings and this is where my family now resides.  Of course, he didn’t leave me there. but I could have stayed for hours recalling all the good times we had.

I didn’t really see dead people, except in my minds eye.  I remember Mom rushing around getting ready for our Memorial  Day picnic.  Her potato salad was the best, and oh, those fresh strawberry pies.  I got to pick the strawberries.  My brother, Donnie would bring the watermelon and  sister, Judy would make the best baked beans. Tom and Brenda were still at home, so they helped set up the tables and chairs in the yard.  We had a good time.

After lunch we would shoot bows and arrows or play baseball.  The older people would take a nap.  Then for supper we would eat the left overs and everyone stayed until dark.  Sometimes we mixed in a few neighbors or cousins to make the games more fun.  We would play hide and seek and catch fireflies.

Memories are nice to have, but always must return to the land of the living.  When a loved one dies, we don’t really grieve for them, we grieve for ourselves.  We are the ones left behind to carry on.  We are the ones with an empty place at the table and in our hearts.  But, alas, death is part of life and we all must face it.  I am so thankful that Jesus can comfort us as no one else.  Knowing that loved ones are now in His presence takes the sting out of death. (I Corinthians 15:54-58)