The start of summer
Memorial day weekend. When I was growing up, we used to visit the graves. My father died when I was young so the ritual held a special place for me. A pilgrimage to a man I didn't get to know. My paternal grandparents were also buried in the same cemetery.
When I was older, I'd go to his grave to think through the big decisions in my life. It helped me feel more centered and as I talked through the issues, I felt closer to the man I don't remember as my father.
Now, my mom has passed on as well. I live 1600 miles away from their final resting place. Together again. So I won't be visiting the graves this year, but I'll remember. And isn't that what we carry forward from generation to generation? Our memories?
I hope you have a wonderful weekend, no matter where it finds you.