I like the way that Memorial Day follows the holiday tradition of ceremony followed by food. Parades and visits to the cemetery lead into celebration of those who have left us with those who remain. And for those separated by long distance there is the ongoing shared memory of everyone who is not with us, in heaven and on earth. I remember my father by raising the flag, and my mother by making potato salad. I did both of these things when they were alive and so doing them now makes that process more joyful and less bittersweet.
Coming at the end of May, Memorial Day is as much about the promise of the burgeoning summer as anything, and this year the weather could not be more perfect – cool nights and blue mornings bring legions of peonies and irises into bloom, and friends gather at the in the dusk after an idyllic day in the sun and shade. In a world rife with trouble and uncertainty, this weekend is a bubble I can cherish.
This is nice. I associate childhood Memorial Days with unwanted picnics in the heat with mosquitos, generally. I’ll live yours vicariously instead.