Memorial Day

Brace yourselves for what I am about to say...I know this may create quite the stir and people will think I am crazy but I just have to get it out there. I don't really care for Memorial Day. There, I said it. Finally it's off my chest. I love what Memorial Day stands for. I think there should be more days to honor the men and women who have served our country and I definitely appreciate the freedoms afforded because of their sacrifices. But it bothers me that so many people see it as just a day off. A day to BBQ or a weekend to go camping. To those of you I know who have served or are currently serving, I extend my deepest gratitude. To Scott, Jeremy, Phil, Nick, Kyle's family members, my uncles, my grandpas, my dad. I thank you.

For me Memorial Day is an emotional day. As a kid we had a tradition of going to the cemetery to put flowers on my Grandpa Engle's grave. As we admired all the U.S. flags lining the roads in the cemetery we would stand there as a family and my dad would pray. Now I am the one standing over my dad's grave praying.

Even though it's been almost 10 years I still have an incredibly difficult time seeing his name written on that headstone. It's just so cold, so permanent. I know my dad and grandpas are in a better place because of what they believed, but it doesn't make me miss them less.

When I have managed to muster up the courage to go to the cemetery I end up standing there sobbing and blubbering like a baby. My eyes are red and puffy for days afterward and I get what I call a crying headache. I hate it. Last year the count of graves to visit went up again as we added Grandpa Skaufel...which made it even harder.

I didn't go this year, to the graveyard. I feel terribly guilty for not going. I know people in our family keep tabs on who has been there by the kinds of flowers or vases that are left. They are going to know I didn't go. Maybe they will understand.

Kristen sent me an email this week with pictures of various military moments. The one that got me was a picture of a boy being presented with a flag by a military gentleman wearing white gloves and a hat. the boy looks about 9 or 10 at the most, sharply dressed in a suit and tie, he is stoically standing there accepting the flag, but you can tell by the look on his face he is struggling to accept the fact his dad is gone. The extent to what people go through for our country amazes me. To the families of all our military personnel, I thank you.

Bloomsday

Contrary to what you may think from the title of this post, we did not do Bloomsday. I used to do it every year with cousin Stephanie and Grandma. We wore fanny packs filled with candy as "fuel" that gives you an idea of how long ago it was. Then it got popular and everyone started doing it. So I quit. Hey, don't give me a hard time and ask "why didn't you do it?" I put my time in people, now I get to be the one to laugh at the crazies the day after who complain about being sore. All for a shirt that you wear once before it becomes a good candidate for new pajamas.

We did however go to Uncle Neal and Aunt Jo's for the annual Bloomsday BBQ. It was fun seeing the fam. Grandma's brood of great-grandkids is growing rapidly. The number is up to 7 now! Here she is with all of them.