One of the traditions I have at the beginning of the summer is planting flowers at the graves of my family members. My great grandparents, my great-great grandparents, great uncles, and great-great aunt. I have helped my grandmother for years in this endeavor, as it is not as easy for her to do it alone anymore. We always talk about the memories, look at the names on other graves to see if we know the names, talk about the weather, plans for summer, or simply enjoy planting the flowers. I try my best, however, to make the graves look as good as possible, as I feel it is one of the best ways to honor and remember those who have passed away. However, there is a great sadness that comes through me for reasons besides the obvious.
Seeing that I plant many of the flowers on the graves of my family members who came far before my time, I see many older graves from years and years ago. However, one of the most upsetting things by far is seeing all the graves in these older areas of cemeteries that go without any care, any flowers, or have been desecrated by those who simply do not care, but think of it this way: Beneath these graves lie the last remains of real people, people who once lived, drew breath, laughed, loved, cried, and were, in most cases, just like any of us. They were real people, not just a stone in the ground with their name on it and the years they lived. Like the saying goes, it is not the dates on the stone that matter, but the dash in between, as that represents the life that they lived. But there they are, for many of them, stones being the only things left of their lives. It is a true travesty that people can desecrate these graves, the last thing that represents them in this world. When I go to the cemeteries to help my grandmother plant flowers, I make it a priority to clean them up as much as I can, whether it is weedwacking the tall weeds, cleaning them off, or even standing fallen over stones back up.
Thus, I have a challenge to any and all those who may find themselves planting flowers in cemeteries, visiting gravestones of relatives, or simply walking through: Take some time, look at the names, acknowledge the people there, think about who they might have been, or what they might have been like, or what they did for work. If you see a grave that has been dirtied up, tipped over, or desecrated, do what you can to fix it. Turn it back up the right way, clean it off, pull a few weeds if you have time, simply do anything to acknowledge that these are still people, that they still matter, even if their graves have been forgotten. Nobody should ever be forgotten and only known by a stone in the ground bearing their name.
Hoping summer is finding everybody well!
