Memorial Day.

I love Memorial Day. I really do. To some people Memorial Day is a day off of work or a BBQ or a big sale. But for me Memorial Day always has been and always will be remembering my family who has gone before me. When I was a child, each Memorial Day my grandma and her sister, my Aunt Rulu, would load up the trunks of grandpa and Uncle Wayne's cars with huge buckets filled with flowers, with trimmers, rags and brooms. We would head to the cemetery in Parker, Idaho. We didn't just go there and drop off a few flowers, no, I watched Grandma and Aunt Rulu lovingly clean the headstones of their parents, their sister, their brothers. They would trim the grass around and then place flowers there. It isn't just one or two graves there either, nearly all of my grandma and grandpa's family is buried in this cemetery in this small town. This is where I learned my family history. Walking around the cemetery.

Memorial Days in southeastern Idaho aren't often warm, in fact, sometimes they are downright cold. We would always have a picnic afterwards. Sometimes in the back of the car it was so cold. Oftentimes it was at Quail Lake. I remember catching minnows, and once a mouse, with my grandpa. Sometimes we would hunt for asparagus.

Many years have passed since those Memorial Days I celebrated as a child. Grandma and Aunt Rulu have been gone for nearly 4 years. But I felt their presence so strongly this last weekend when we were at the Parker Cemetery. I am sure they were there, watching us carry on their traditions.

Blake, helping to carry flowers.

Bailey and Mylie, putting flowers at Grandma's grave.
Mylie and Darcy, cleaning off the headstones. Blake, taking his turn cleaning. He took that job really serious.
Both of my parents are from Idaho Falls and their parents both grew up and lived in the area as well. Hence, most of my family is buried in and around Idaho Falls. My brother had been doing some research and we visited 6 cemeteries on Saturday. We visited both of my grandma's graves, all of my great-grandparent's graves and many great-great grandparent's graves. This pictures is of Eliza (my niece) at my Grandpa Hammond's grandmother's grave in Ashton. Her name was Eliza Jane, just like our Liza!


We had the traditional picnic. It was cold and rainy, but we found a picnic shelter. The kids didn't care. They had such fun playing on the old playground equipment.

It was a wonderful weekend and a great time to be with family. I got to visit both of my grandpas, two of my aunts, and all of my immediate family except Courtney and her family (10 more days ....). I am really grateful that my parents and my grandparent's instilled in me the importance of remembering our family. I look forward to carrying on their traditions.