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Heartwings Love Notes 778 - A Memorial Day Remembrance

Heartwings says, "We honor our departed when we carry on their good work."

My father's father died in World War One, when my dad was six years old. I can still see the picture of him that was always on top of
our piano in a old fashioned frame. Tinted brown, it showed a tall man in an army officer's uniform wearing riding boots—he was in the
Calvary, standing opposite a small boy in a sailor suit saluting his father. It may have been the last picture ever taken of him. My
grandmother never remarried but raised my father and his brother alone.

My father was a colorful character who dressed as he chose and did things the way he wanted to. Although he didn't care too much
what others thought, he was also in certain ways a traditional person. Every Sunday he attended the Episcopal Church where he had
grown up. There my grandmother had endowed a stained glass window dedicated to her late husband. On the rare occasions I
attended it with him as a child I would gaze entranced at the light shining through the knight in armor with the various emblems
surrounding him.

There was a square in the center of town that was dedicated to my grandfather. He was a hero who been awarded a medal
posthumously. Each Memorial Day the parade of marchers would stop there and a member from the American Legion would place a
wreath of leaves on the hook beneath his name. My grandmother and later my father would add a big bunch of red carnations. I
remember one year my father lifted me up so I could do it. Each year we went as a family for the ceremony.

Buried too far away for me to tend or decorate his grave, his body lies in a cemetery on the Cape where many of his ancestors lived
and worked. His several times great grandfather even started a newspaper there that is still publishing. My father's simple boulder
with a brass plaque, his unique choice for his headstone stands out among the more traditional gravestones of his ancestors and
other members of his family. He was an individualist to the end.

On this Memorial Day as always I honor my late father in my heart. When I donate to a charity I know he would have given to, when I
pray in my own fashion for the good of others, and when I emulate his kind nature and unique sense of fashion, I am honoring his
memory. I cannot place flowers on his grave nor can I tend it as I would if I lived nearby; I can honor his memory in my own way by
how I live my life in the way he taught me to do.

May this Memorial Day bring you treasured memories to enjoy.

 

I love to hear from readers and would be honored if you would comment and let me know any suggestions or thoughts. If a friend sent you this, you can sign up at my web site, www.heartwingslovenotes.com, where more love notes can be found in the archives.

Blessings and Best Regards,
Tasha Halpert
 

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