Unlike most Americans, Memorial Day brings back memories of irises and my grandmother. No, she wasn't in the military. In fact, I was an adult before I knew that it was actually a day to honor veterans and it still doesn't feel like that is the purpose of the holiday for me.
For several years when I was growing up, Memorial Day was a day that we spent with my mom's mom. The day started in her garden. She always had lots of her favorite flowers, irises, there. We would gather bunches of them for lost loved ones. We went all over central Utah to visit several different cemeteries. It meant a lot to her to do that.
This year, we had a rather uneventful day. The kids and I went swimming in the morning, stayed home for naps in the afternoon, and then had our own little bbq. I guess it is a little sad that I didn't carry on the tradition, but the only relative that is buried anywhere near us is my dad. Somehow, dragging 2 kids to a crowded veterans’ cemetery on a HOT day didn't seem appealing, especially since I had taken them there a few months ago.
I don't feel too bad. They got to visit my grandmother's grave in the desert cemetery in New Mexico on the way back from California. She would have liked that.
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