Memorial Day has never been a time for me to visit graves because I don't believe anyone lives there (no pun intended). This certainly does not preclude my thinking of all the people who have been lost to me and the world. Fortunately I went through World War 2 with no serious losses though my oldest brother had had his back broken by a bomb landing too close to the jeep he was in at the time. My first husband had been in the European Theater and had been shot in the leg behind and below his knee. PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) was not known then but the nightmares he suffered for so many years and his behavior would indicate that he experienced PTSD.
Many ex-servicemen did not die in the war but died later from cancer, most often from their continued use of alcohol and unfiltered cigarette smoking. So little was known then that we now know about what will kill you.
I guess the Poppy's worn started with WW 1 and Flanders Field...or is that Veteran's Day? To learn the origin of Memorial Day, click here. I can no longer keep track of holidays' meanings because they have mixed so many agendas. My grade school teachers wasted their time and mine forcing memorization of birth dates of important people because we now celebrate them on Mondays. Memorial Day this year will be on May 24th though it was traditionally on the 30th.
For we callous folk, it also means the day of the Indianapolis 500 race. It's a day off from work. It's a day to spend with your family...or to get away from your family (which ever you prefer). It's a day to work in the garden or not work at all. Your actions may have nothing to do with the memories you float through your head. But try though they may, I'll bet there are few on that day who don't spend some time remembering the people they have lost to the Grim Reaper, sometime and somewhere.
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