On this day I would almost always go back to the town where I was born and place flowers on all the graves of my departed family members. My little daughter and I would pick any flowers available in the yard and then go down to the pasture and pick armloads of wild white daisies, as this was the time of year they bloomed in Oregon. We would gather up the coffee cans I had been saving, tin foil to cover them so they would look "pretty", rocks to weight the bottoms down, some big jugs of water, the flowers and off we would drive for an hour or so to the "coast". We had all the burial plot locations memorized and we would start the decorating. We always brought extra for those lonely graves that didn't seem to have someone looking in on them. In my memory it was always sunny and always windy! Of course I am sure there were some wet and rainy Memorial Days too, but somehow one's mind just blocks those out! We would spend time wandering around reading grave markers and wonder who were these folks and what were their lives like? It was always so peaceful and gratifying and just a tiny touch back to my favorite people who I knew were watching us from above.
