For many, today is bittersweet. While some will spend this Memorial Day visiting with friends and family, or perhaps, catching up on some household chores or some much-needed R and R, still others will make their annual trek to cemeteries near and far where their loved ones’ earthly remains are laid to rest.
For some, the loss may be quite fresh and the grief almost uncontainable. For those whose loss isn’t as recent, the sting of sadness may not be as sharp now, but the void in our lives left by our loved one’s passing is nothing short of daunting. We may need a moment to stop, regroup, and gain fresh perspective.
Ever so gently, lovingly, we’ll place the carefully chosen floral sprays next to the gravesite, and maybe, we’ll offer a prayer or have a moment of silence. After all, Memorial Day is the time when we pay our respects to those who have gone before us. It’s a holiday steeped in tradition, the special time of year where we acknowledge the deceased and what they meant to us.
For Christians, Memorial Day is especially significant because we reflect not only on our loved ones’ previous lives and earthly deaths, but also on their present dwelling with our Heavenly Father in a glorious place where there is no more physical pain, trials, or sorrows. We don’t wish for our own lives to be cut short necessarily, yet we long for the day when, once again, we’ll see our cherished ones face to face!
I’m so blessed to have my mother and father still living. My beloved grandmother, however, passed away many years ago on a beautiful spring day–a Mother’s Day weekend.
Nana had suffered a disabling stroke and lingered about six months afterward in a semi-conscious state. Her decline was heartwrenching, but it was probably God’s divine way of preparing us for the inevitable.
The day she passed away, most of the family was by her bedside. I remember stroking her butter-soft cheek and smoothing her blond-gray hair with my fingertips. Her breathing grew shallow; I tried to will myself not to watch the slow rise and fall of her chest.
Gingerly, I sat on the hospital-style bed and then laid down for one last time beside the dear one who’d cuddled with me as a little girl.
Nana opened her eyes, something she’d not done in weeks. I feathered soft kisses upon her face and whispered, “It’s okay, Nana. You go home now…We’ll join you soon…”
Nana didn’t need her glasses. She was seeing clearly for the first time in decades. Her vision was perfect as she walked fully restored through the gates of paradise.
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A question for you to think about…What significance does Memorial Day hold for you?
Comments 2
This is a very heart-warming post, Cynthia. As a child, I remember my mom and aunt taking flowers to the family grave sites. No longer living there, it has lost some significance; but we now live in a city with a large military presence, and my thoughts lean toward those who gave all for the freedoms we enjoy.
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Yes, I remember visiting the family grave sites, as well, Patti. It was always a bittersweet time, with Nana regaling us with stories of the past. And today with so many of our servicemen and women laying their lives on the line, it truly does place a new perspective on the seemingly simple freedoms we take for granted.