This holiday isn’t just about BBQs and celebrating a day off work. It’s about remembering those in our lives who have passed on and remembering the soldiers who have given everything for us.
My Grandad Crockett died before I was born. He served in WWII in transport. I never met him, but I can remember all the stories I have listened to all my life from my mom about him. She is a story-teller, and for that I am grateful, because I feel like I know her father well because of her stories. He was a man with a temper and a keen mind. He loved her and her mother with everything he had. Just before he died, my mother was pregnant with my sister. He asked her what she was going to do, and my mom said, “Love it and raise it.”
He died a few days later, knowing that his grandchild would be safe, and happy, and loved.
Memories in this house are important and we revisit them often. I cannot tell you how many times I have sat at the feet of my elders listening to their stories, reveling in the lives they led before me. I adore the listening and I would never stop my mom from repeating a story I’ve heard a thousand times, because I want to hear it again. I want to remember her memories, I want to be a part of my family’s legacy and the only way I know how is to live a life the ones who came before me would be proud of. How can I do that if I don’t know them? So I listen, and I remember.
Happy Memorial Day.