Memorial Day

 I missed my mom.

My parents weren't there when they served their mission in Nauvoo, but I also wasn't there because that was when we lived in Washington.  Every time I've been to the cemeteries, my mom was there to straighten out my memory of who was who.

We met up at the Murray Cemetery first, like always.  It is clear that the tradition means more to the women of the family than the men.  Besides my uncle Richard (and his wife, my aunt Launa), everyone else was daughters.

Mary is carrying on, bringing flowers from her yard for everyone in tin cans that she secured to the ground with hangers exactly like my grandma used to do.  We hugged and cried a little, missing my mom.  Her daughter, Melanie was there, along with Olivia and Desi and me (and our families).  We found headstones and told stories and took pictures.

Blessed honored pioneers.

After Murray, we went to Sandy and Crescent.  At the Crescent cemetery, Olivia and I couldn't remember who Dee was and who Romell was.  Their headstones were nearby and I know my mom told us every year.

I looked it up on Family Search, because we have to carry on.  Olivia, when you read this, Dee was Homer Sr.'s brother.  Romell was Dee's son.  

We'll remember together.

We had lunch at Golden Corral.  It strikes the balance between not all that exciting, but everyone can eat at the same time and get pretty much what they want.  Olivia has a predilection to not get her boys sodas at restaurants because they are overpriced.  They are overpriced, but Mary and I, in an attempt to curry favor with our nephews, bought everyone a Dr. Pepper.

When Olivia protested, I told her that if she was as cute as her sons, I would have bought her one too.  

I am not one to remember to take pictures, but we enjoyed being together for lunch.

We hit the West Jordan cemetery next.  According to Family Search, there were 377 people there that I am related to.

So...we didn't see them all.  We put flowers on the graves of my Egbert and Dahl great-grandparents, traversed to the far side of the cemetery to see John and Matilda (it wasn't too far of a walk compared to last summer when we saw where they were christened in Sweden), and we stopped by and saw some more Gardners and Livingstons.  

Olivia and family had left by then, but we were still in a mood for cemeteries, I guess.  We went to the Salt Lake City cemetery.  Emma, who is a daughter who will never abandon the cemetery tradition (it is basically her personality), knew exactly where our family was there.  My great great grandparents Isabella and Charles Rich are buried there.  Emma visits them periodically and cleans off their headstone because it seems no one else does.

Daughters hold the line.

Emma knew where Anna Pearson Olsen Rowan was buried.  

She had a hard life and her faded little headstone made me a little bit sad, but I remember her.  I've been to the church in Sweden where she was christened too.

There is no fading for Archibald Gardner, whose headstone was taller than I am:

We were planning to go to Kilsyth in Scotland where he was from.  Maybe another time....

When we got home I napped and did a little laundry.  Adam and I did a crossword puzzle and I cooked some corn on the cob because it won't be good when we get back from our trip.

Today we fly to Seattle for a few days.  It will be good to see family and friends and tall trees.  We are going to honor Brent and show our love for Stephanie and their family.  

Some things matter more than others and people are high on that list.