This year I went with my sisters to visit the graves of our beloved grandparents, as well as a cousin, and his mother, an aunt we never knew because of her early death, but who was so loved by her family. This year I had a strong desire to visit these places, partly because my parents, who are diligent about grave-visiting, are not here right now. Also, I heard a really great talk at a recent women's conference about how certain places other than the temple become sacred for families. The speaker listed cemeteries as one of them, and told how visiting graves and sharing stories about people who had gone on brought their family closer together and filled them with a sense of history and belonging. I reflected on the traditions we always had as a family of cutting irises at Grandma Olsen's, and putting them in foil-wrapped coffee cans, filled with gravel to weight them, and water of course, and taking them over to the Plain City Cemetery. We LOVED that tradition, and after this experience of taking my kids to visit the resting places of their great-grandparents, I have realized how important it is for us to continue the yearly trek. It was such a special day.
This picture of the kids running around, checking out headstones is straight out of our own childhoods, and here we are now...
I love, love, love my sisters. And my little girl, Harper? I love her too. So very much.
After the Plain City Cemetery, we went to the Burger Bar to pick up dinner. We brought the food back to Grandma and Grandpa McCracken's, and used the hidden key to get in. It was so strange, but lovely to be there. Almost everything is exactly the same as it was when they were alive. It was as if Grandma would come from the kitchen, offering food and drink any minute. And maybe Grandpa was just in the back room watching golf. So many memories. I am so blessed.
Day is done, gone the sun, from the lake, from the hill, from the trees. All is well, safely rest, God is nigh.
