It was a big thing in my family to go to the cemetery to visit the graves of loved ones who passed. For my grandmother, aunt and mother it was a standard excursion to do it on Memorial Day. My mother was delighted when I would take her to see her parents grave site. They were buried on a hill surrounded by old oak trees. It was a peaceful place. On all occasions we would go to Rainbow Cones (a Chicago thing) for ice cream, sometimes dozens of us. All the people that made it a tradition are gone now. When my father died, I procrastinated in getting a head stone for him and I never visited his grave. Eight years later when my mother passed, I got a double head stone and finally had my father properly marked. But after another eight years, I have yet to go to their grave and pay my respects. I know the marker is there, because a distant cousin had gone and sent me a picture. It really isn’t a tradition anymore, but I feel I should go. However, I can’t bring myself to do it. Maybe, the drive is too far. Maybe, it would cement my own mortality. Maybe, it would make me too sad. Some day I will probably go, but definitely get Rainbow Ice Cream afterwards.
Grave
2 responses to “Grave”
-
I know it’s a special tradition, but I also put off going to visit my parents’ grave. When I go, I feel no connection there. I’d rather remember them through family stories and special things that they passed down to me. One of those things is the LOVE of ice cream! If I’m ever in Chicago, now I will know to get some Rainbow Ice Cream!
About Me
Indie author and self taught artist, creating for over fifty years, also a former corporate lawyer and systems manager … and other assorted vocations. Writing is my passion. I just released my first science fiction novel, Escape From Desolation, eBook and paperback. More information at my author page: http://escapefromdesolation.com
RobArt Penguin 
Leave a comment