Memorials

Little Boy and I were walking down the street while visiting my parents.  It was the Eve of Memorial Day weekend, which means in my hometown the street names change to honor the fallen soldiers from the town. So I pointed out to him that this week, this is "Sgt. George Snyder St" because his aunt and uncle lived nearby. (They try to pick the street closest to their home or a relative's home)

I explained to him that Pop-pop John and George knew each other when they were young boys and that George died in a war and that Pop-John went on to have kids and grand kids and live a good life to honor his friends who didn't make it home. Now Pop-pop John and George are back together with Jesus and the angels in Heaven.

Of course the whole time I am misty-eyed and struggling to speak but I carried on because that is what Grandpop would want. He would want me to teach Little Boy in the simplest of terms. Then, every year as we encounter Memorial Day, go over it all again with him so that the knowledge, gravity and reverence for these lost men and now the departing great-grandpops will plant itself deep in his heart.

That is the kind of heart I want for him. To remember the sacrifices and legacies of those who went before him so they won't be forgotten.