COVID-19 Can't Rob Us of Memories
I have mentioned on several occasions that one of my favorite events to cover as a member of the press is the Memorial Day service at the Colorado City cemetery. It is a moving, emotional event. An event filled with the memories of lives given for others.
Among the things COVID-19 robbed from us was the opportunity to spend last Monday at the Memorial Day service. But I had the opportunity to participate in something as meaningful. My wife Lori and I got in the car a few minutes after 6 a.m. on Monday morning and headed east to Eads, Colorado.
The cemetery at Eads is where Lori’s mom and dad, and a few other relatives are buried. Her dad, Jack, was a veteran of the Korean War. The day before we made the trip, we watched several hours of movies taken during Lori’s childhood. I don’t have to tell you who caught my eye the most of the five children, do I?
With the home movies fresh in our minds, the opportunity to visit the graves was a touching and special moment. Dot (Lori’s mom) was an integral part of our lives. She loved to entertain and felt that the more people she could cram into her home, the better. Like many of her generation, no one had the opportunity to go hungry at her home. Meals were only separated by brief intervals before another full course meal was set before you.
Dot loved to play card games and a game I’ve told you all about called Marbles. Before she died, Dot had the opportunity to meet our oldest two grandchildren and, via my daughter, she is certainly known to all four of them.
We were in her assisted living apartment the morning she died.
Jack and Dot divorced when Lori was young and her dad ended up remarried and in California. We saw less of him but every time we did, it was a special event, especially to our children. Grandpa Jack was the kind of wild maniac that would walk around at breakfast with a coffee cup filled with ice cream.
He had been a doctor by trade and his bed side manner was evident. He was kind, gentle and approachable, especially to the youngest of the family.
Unlike Dot, who made her home a warm and special place, Jack made the warm and special place a series of adventures. Jack led our family through many a tourist attraction, “Eating our way through Disneyland,” as he used to like to say. There were no sites we missed, and as he got older, he was more than content to hit a food stand and then find a bench to relax on while kids and grandkids explored the most recent adventure.
Hopefully, Memorial Day services will have returned by next year but Lori and I have decided we are going to take another trip. This time we will make Eads a stop on our way to WaKeeney, Kansas where my dad is buried, along with all of my grandparents.
Like our Eads trip, we will likely fight the winds in WaKeeney and hope that the real flowers we bring will survive the elements at least for a little while. We will experience the feelings of parents that, of course, were not perfect but were key components in how we handle life.
We will again experience the rush of memories, the tug at the heart strings and the leaking around the eyes. We will stare directly into our souls and see how we were molded, shaped and loved into the people that we have become. And we will once again be grateful for those who, military or not, truly did their best to give their lives for us.Viewpoint: '