Memorial Day

For Great Uncle Joe

       As I walk through the graveyard I see hundreds of flags flowing in the breeze. I begin to think, how many are just memorials? So I begin to walk. Up and down the rows of gravestones I go. I recognize family member’s names and the names of people I know, but I’m counting. Counting the memorial blocks at the foot of the gravestones, there are many. As I near the perimeter of the cemetery, I get butterflies in my stomach. I know whose memorial stone I will see next. I begin to wonder if I should have come in the first place. I decide yes, I made the right decision this May. So I slow my step and take a deep breath; there it is. I sit down beside Great Uncle Joe’s memorial stone and begin to talk. I start by telling him who I am and about our family. Then I tell him all the stories I’ve heard about him. I haven’t noticed how long I’ve been here until the sun begins to go down. It’s probably been hours since I got here, but I couldn’t care less. As I get up to leave I remember something and sit back down. I lean in towards his headstone and whisper “Great Grandma always thought you were alive.” And with that the wind began to blow and I took that as a sign that he heard me. And I walked out of that cemetery feeling better than I had in a long time. Because I now knew that I had a connection with my Great Uncle Joe, and no one could take that away.

Reviews

[White Rose]

I did that one time before but the wind never blew for me :) this is a very excellent story. YOu have a wonderful way of writing keep it up! And I can't wait to see some more of your writing!
~White Rose