Too Far Away

I often feel too far away from my family.

And today is one of those days.

Today a lot of my family is gathering to go to cemeteries in the Salt Lake area. In high school, my friend Marie thought it was a bizarre way to spend a holiday. I think it's probably one of the best ways.

1991

2007

In the Murray Cemetery, there's a cannon that my cousins and brothers used to climb on, in 2007, we made the trek to UT for Memorial Day and here are my kids with their cousins on the same cannon.

Because of these yearly sojourns to the Murray, Crescent, Sandy and West Jordan Cemeteries, I have a better sense of my roots.

We would always start at my grandpa's grave, my mother's dad that none of the grandchildren knew. My grandma spent Saturday preparing flowers and we'd clean and decorate the graves with irises and pansies and care. I never once had the sense that my grandpa was actually there, in Murray Cemetery. I know he's moved on to better places, but going there to lay flowers and remember (or regret not remembering in my case) made me feel connected to this man who called me "Little Toad" when I was 15 months old. I know he loved me and that I'll see him again someday. In the meantime, I loved visiting his grave on a sunny Monday every May.

My grandma holding me, my grandpa holding Marianne

After seeing my grandpa's grave, my family would spend time on my grandma's parents who, along with my grandma's brothers, are buried right next to my grandpa. We'd visit some Dahl and Wood ancestors in the same cemetery and I'd figure out how everyone was related and hold it all in my head for a little while. In the Crescent and Sandy Cemeteries we'd visit Jaynes relatives. When my Great Grandma Jaynes was alive, she'd show us her sisters', parents' and husband's grave and I'd look at the small, bent-over-with-age grandmother with sparkling brown eyes I loved and marvel at the losses she'd had in her life and her strength. I'd wonder, "Did I inherit that strength along with those brown eyes?"

I still wonder.

There's my great grandma, with the purple pants and black sweater, the kid with the belt buckle and watering can is Tabor. Ammon is the one with the tightly tucked in shirt. My cute brothers...

In the West Jordan cemetery we'd see my dad's grandparents Olivia and Wilford Egbert and Amanda and David Dahl. (yes, we're the family with little geographical variety in our pedigree) The Dahl graves had a big show-offy headstone which my mom once said was typical.

I think she was right.

By the end of our Memorial Day observances, we'd go back to my grandma's house to eat and reminisce and be teased by my uncles.

I loved it all. I miss it.