Turning the Hearts of the Children

What does Memorial Day mean to you? Is it a three day weekend where we can jump kick the summer and break out the 'ole RV or tent and go camping? Does it mean bbq's with family and friends or excursions to the park or shopping? Do you take time during the day to remember and honor those who have served this country and sacrificed their lives to protect our freedom?

As a child, Memorial Day was a day to remember our loved ones who had passed away and to visit their graves and honor their memory. Every year we would ravage the flower beds and cut the blooms from the lilac bushes to create bouquets which we would load into the car, then we would all pile in and head to Victor.

Victor was always synonymous with love to me. From my earliest memories there are flashbacks of trips to Victor and they are filled with hugs and family and acceptance. We didn't go up there often but when we did, we were wanted and loved. On Memorial Day we would go straight to the cemetery which was quiet and peaceful, not the creepy scene of Hollywood horror films, but welcoming and calm. As a child I would tip toe around the stones, not wanting to stand on the bodies, looking at the different stones and wondering about the people under the ground. As a teenager, I would ponder the words engraved on the stones and marvel at the brevity of life and wonder about the lives that were led by those people. My Grandparents died when I was quite young and so our trips to Victor included stops to their graves. Standing there thinking about them, I would let memories of my Grandmother's hugs roll over me and I would see my Grandpa's chin stubble in my minds eye and wish that I could have known them both better; my heart literally turning to them with fondness.

My Grandma and Grandpa Pack both died in my adulthood and so my fond memories of them are of visiting them at their cabin in Island Park. Sometimes on Memorial Day weekend we would go there and spend time with them. They are both buried in Southern Utah and I have yet to make the trek down there to visit their graves. That is for another Memorial Day.

Honoring loved ones who have passed on is also a tradition of Scott's family and every Memorial Day in the early years of our marriage was spent between Victor and Malad and Logan. We would pack up our children and visit the graves; sometimes with my family and other times with his. We packed flowers and sandwiches and felt good about passing this great tradition along to our children. That all changed when we moved to Alaska. With no family members buried in Alaska, we had no graves to visit and so we filled the weekend with family time; camping or exploring that beautiful state.

I realized this Memorial Day that we truly neglected passing on this very important tradition to our children. Luke thought that we were crazy when we explained our plans for a road trip to visit cemeteries and graves. Emily was wondering why we went and Hilary e-mailed from The Netherlands asking if there had been a conference talk about how we should go visit the graves of our deceased family members. How could Scott and I grow up with such a beautiful legacy of reverence and homage for our forebears and not pass that along to our children? We made Memorial Day memorial for our children but somehow missed the mark.

There will be other Memorial Days and somehow we will encourage our children to join us in future visits. Hopefully their hearts will warm with love for their Great Grandparents and other relatives as we share our memories with them. One day they might stand before their granite grave stones and feel their hearts turning to their fathers the way mine did this past weekend.

Scott's maternal grandparents are buried in the St. John Idaho cemetery. Here is his Mom getting some flowers in just the right spot.

Scott's niece died in an auto accident when she was a teenager. We visited her grave in the beautiful Robin Idaho cemetery. From her grave there is the most beautiful panoramic view.

Every year on our way to or from Victor, we would stop in Swan Valley for square ice cream cones. My earliest memories of this place are of a small shacklike business but look at it now! I hardly recognized it! Yes, the ice cream is still square!!

This is how Fitzwilliam spent much of the time spent at the different cemeteries.