Then one of them noticed a flower vase on a nearby grave had fallen over. First one, then all four, went over to fix it and set it up again. They worked hard, but alas, it was broken and would not stay on that blustery day. Still, I thought it was kind. Nice that they would see the need of someone they didn't know, or would never know. And out there, somewhere, was someone who would not know four young boys taking time away from their own family and its needs, to help a perfect stranger. Somehow that made it all seem OK, like this is what we are made for. Not the fleeting and often superficial things we worry about, but for one another. And if that's the case, then I am fully confident in my Dad's own well being, for he spent a lifetime helping and being there for those around him. Even if he didn't know who they were. And that seems to be the essence of what we remember about Memorial Day, if anything is.
|The older two continue working to fix the broken vase, while our youngest prompts an impromptu run by our 10 year old|