Embracing but not glorifying our ancestors
Today in the United States is the day set aside to honor those who died while serving in the United States military. The tradition began following the civil war and was then known as Decoration Day. In 1971 Memorial Day became an official federal holiday.
When I was a child families began preparing for Decoration Day days or even weeks prior to the event by making decorations for the graves of all family members including those who died who served while in the military. Food also had to be prepared and packed for the elaborate picnic feast that was shared following the cleaning up of graves, straightening headstones, and perhaps saying a prayer as one put fresh flowers or other decorations on or by the graves. I do not recall anyone bringing what I now know as purchased grave blankets
Often, while at the cemetery, many would have conversations with the spirit of the deceased person expressing how much they appreciated and loved them. These conversations were not restricted to the fallen military family members but often extended to all who were symbolically resting there.
Obviously, no one actually thought the spirit of the person was in the grave but, perhaps, many believed the spirits gathered at the cemetery just for Memorial/Decoration Day. While sharing the picnic feast family member also shared their favorite stories about the deceased. Often parents of those who died while serving in the military shared happy memories of when their children “were young and innocent”. Many of my ancestors on my father side of the family are buried in that small cemetery as are the ashes of our mother. Fortunately, I do not have to visit the cemetery to call upon the spirits of those ancestors today sitting as I am nearly a 1000 miles away. Some with whom I spent time I can conjure up and place in the several empty chairs on my large covered porch. Some I can conjure up from photos and stories shared with me. Many I just know are with me via the DNA I carry every place I go. (If I just had that new iPad Pro I could use photos to place them in all my porch chairs!)
I often write about the Grandma Fannie lessons I carry with me. They are like open books in my mind which also contain the wisdom of my parents and wise mentors such as Aunt Pleasie and Uncle Harold.
What I do not recall from those Independence Days at Sunrise Cemetery are any conversations with the deceased about what we should learn from their experiences: Why didn’t the war to end all wars ends all wars? What did we have in common with the soldiers we killed or who killed us? How can we teach our children to find the best in each other? Does the world look better to you from the distance of time or are we making the same mistakes? Why can’t we adults follow the advice of our parents and learn to share our “toys”? Is war inevitable?
There are millions of questions I need to ask my ancestors; we need to ask our ancestors. Is it true, as I believe, each of us (barring illness which prevents a shared reality) contains a best self that wants to come out and work together to create a more just, loving, less angry and less judgmental world?
I am told that the most traumatic experience in war reveals “the enemy” to be partner, father, mother, lover, or otherwise just like us; in realizing that in killing each other we kill a part of ourselves.
On this Memorial Day my prayer is to embrace my ancestors without glorifying their decisions and mistakes; to honor and hold close the best of my ancestors and allow their best to be alive in me; to forgive myself for all the times I have failed to be my best self: to give thanks to all the youth including my wonderful nephews, nieces and son who do their best to teach this elder.
Written May 25, 2020
Jimmy F Pickett, LPC, AADC
coachpickett, LPC, AADC
Today in the United States is the day set aside to honor those who died while serving in the United States military. The tradition began following the civil war and was then known as Decoration Day. In 1971 Memorial Day became an official federal holiday.
When I was a child families began preparing for Decoration Day days or even weeks prior to the event by making decorations for the graves of all family members including those who died who served while in the military. Food also had to be prepared and packed for the elaborate picnic feast that was shared following the cleaning up of graves, straightening headstones, and perhaps saying a prayer as one put fresh flowers or other decorations on or by the graves. I do not recall anyone bringing what I now know as purchased grave blankets
Often, while at the cemetery, many would have conversations with the spirit of the deceased person expressing how much they appreciated and loved them. These conversations were not restricted to the fallen military family members but often extended to all who were symbolically resting there.
Obviously, no one actually thought the spirit of the person was in the grave but, perhaps, many believed the spirits gathered at the cemetery just for Memorial/Decoration Day. While sharing the picnic feast family member also shared their favorite stories about the deceased. Often parents of those who died while serving in the military shared happy memories of when their children “were young and innocent”. Many of my ancestors on my father side of the family are buried in that small cemetery as are the ashes of our mother. Fortunately, I do not have to visit the cemetery to call upon the spirits of those ancestors today sitting as I am nearly a 1000 miles away. Some with whom I spent time I can conjure up and place in the several empty chairs on my large covered porch. Some I can conjure up from photos and stories shared with me. Many I just know are with me via the DNA I carry every place I go. (If I just had that new iPad Pro I could use photos to place them in all my porch chairs!)
I often write about the Grandma Fannie lessons I carry with me. They are like open books in my mind which also contain the wisdom of my parents and wise mentors such as Aunt Pleasie and Uncle Harold.
What I do not recall from those Independence Days at Sunrise Cemetery are any conversations with the deceased about what we should learn from their experiences: Why didn’t the war to end all wars ends all wars? What did we have in common with the soldiers we killed or who killed us? How can we teach our children to find the best in each other? Does the world look better to you from the distance of time or are we making the same mistakes? Why can’t we adults follow the advice of our parents and learn to share our “toys”? Is war inevitable?
There are millions of questions I need to ask my ancestors; we need to ask our ancestors. Is it true, as I believe, each of us (barring illness which prevents a shared reality) contains a best self that wants to come out and work together to create a more just, loving, less angry and less judgmental world?
I am told that the most traumatic experience in war reveals “the enemy” to be partner, father, mother, lover, or otherwise just like us; in realizing that in killing each other we kill a part of ourselves.
On this Memorial Day my prayer is to embrace my ancestors without glorifying their decisions and mistakes; to honor and hold close the best of my ancestors and allow their best to be alive in me; to forgive myself for all the times I have failed to be my best self: to give thanks to all the youth including my wonderful nephews, nieces and son who do their best to teach this elder.
Written May 25, 2020
Jimmy F Pickett, LPC, AADC
coachpickett, LPC, AADC
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