I remember the first grave that I visited. My grandmother E asked my Dad to take her to my Grandfather’s grave. I was very young and lived on a farm so we didn’t go very far or very often so I jumped at every chance to go somewhere. She had Dad stop and she got some flowers. Soon, we were back in the car and arrived at the cemetery.
It took Grandma just a while to get her bearings and she found his stone. I saw flowers on many graves that day and many people tending them. Grand removed grass that had grown up around the stone and then carefully attached the flowers that she had brought. She was a petite woman who was always strong of will, but that day she cried as she was finishing up. She was a spiritual person and insisted that we now or heads with her while she said a short prayer.
Then she started walking back to the car and we were leaving, going back to drop her off at her house. She had regained her composure by then and after the adults had drank a cup of coffee, Grandma thanked my Dad for taking her to see Grandfather on that Memorial day.