Ed Milligan has a way of writing that gets to the soul of the matter. His post I am a Vessel touched me and I wished to pass it along to my followers.
A standing ornamental windmill, planter boxes and peonies are all the only traces that remain of my grandparents at the cute little house on a hill in Missouri Valley, Iowa. Their home, re-sided and shingled to modernize for resale after my Grandmother passed, has had a facelift. Many years we drove from Arkansas up to visit them on the long Memorial Day weekend. I can remember the white 5-gallon buckets filled with water placed in the trunk of their old brown Cadillac. Grandma and my mother would carefully cut roses and peonies from the gardens around the house and place in the water-filled buckets. We’d travel to several graveyards where grandma and grandpa would get out and place flowers by the headstones.
Whatever happened to that ritual? The significance of placing flowers on a grave was something I didn’t quite grasp as a child. Time has moved…
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