My father at his mother’s grave. Memorial day 2010.

For the last several years, I’ve joined my parents placing flowers on my grandparents grave.  We have three cemeteries to visit.  Sunset, where my Mom’s parents are buried, Elmhurst where my Dad’s mom was buried 4 days after his 4th birthday.   The last stop is Acadia where his father and step mom lie.  At each stop my father gets down on his kneeling pad, and with his clippers, trims the grass around the grave markers.  A quick sweep with the whisk broom, water in the container, then the flowers.

It is increasingly surreal to watch this ritual with my own aging parents.  Most of my friends have lost at least one of their parents.  Many have lost both.  Each year I wonder, will this be our last.  All memories seem more precious now.