I'm a little blue today.
Today, November 1st, is known as "All Saints Day" or "Day of the Dead" or by some other name in many parts of the world. It is the day from which Halloween (All Hallows Eve) evolved. And I am feeling wistful and a tad sad because it is a day I miss spending with my grandparents.
Today is the 20th anniversary (1985) of the final time my grandfather took me with him to his hometown cemetery and the 15th anniversary (1990) of the final time my grandmother took me with her to her hometown cemetery.
Previous to those two times, I had accompanied each of them, say, ten other times each over the years to those cemeteries to whitewash the graves of our common ancestors and place fresh flowers graveside.
Grandpa brought with him more than the paint and the flowers, though. He brought stories. As we brushed the fresh coat of glistening white paint onto the roughened surface of the concrete vault that held the bodies of his parents and grandparents, he talked.
"Your great-grandfather Fergus was a fair man. The saying about him was 'Fergus est juste.' (Fergus is fair) He would be called upon by others to settle disputes because he was well-known for his even-handedness.
Grandma did not have to bring paint. Her step-mother Anna (who just died in February 2005 at 101) lived across the street from the cemetery and so had the paint waiting there for us. Anna also always cooked a chicken and sausage gumbo (since it was mostly certain to be chilly on Nov 1st) and sweet potatoes and rice and tea and chocolate chip cookies for dessert.
Grandma also told stories about her father (who died in 1975 when I was 23) and mother, who are buried next to each other (I always wondered how Anna felt about this - and in fact she herself was not buried in that cemetery). My grandmother's mother died when my Gma was only 3 years old - she never knew her.
But she'd heard stories from her Uncle Jim, and still spoke with moist eyes and a lump in her throat about the mother she never had. (Gma was a grown woman when Anna married her father)
But today is a severe gray and drizzly, and no one will be visiting either of those cemeteries from our family, I muse, as a lump grows in my own throat at the thought of a tradition lost over time through neglect.
It is not only what we do in life that we may come to regret, but what we do not do.###
