Memorial Day Memorial

me·mo·ri·al

  [muh-mawr-ee-uhl, -mohr-]  Show IPA

noun

1.

something designed to preserve the memory of a person,

Tomorrow is "Memorial Day".  Mostly people talk about the people who served us in the armed forces.  For me, it's more than that.  It's about remembering the dead.  Remembering the ones whose lives have influenced us the most.  Remembering the ones we loved and have lost.  

Okay then, where do I begin?  I'll begin a long time ago.  I don't even know how young I was, but I was pretty darn young.  I was out on our patio, it was surely the 50's.  My dad came outside and told me someone had died, he said their name actually.  It wasn't like he came out and said, "someone died"...he said their name.  To this day I can't remember who, I just remember the feeling, my thoughts, and how awkward the moment was.

 By my father's countenance I could tell he was sad, therefore, maybe I was supposed to be sad.  Death?  What was that?  Okay I sort of knew...but didn't know it was a "sad" thing, I had heard about death especially in the Catholic Church.  We had reminders everywhere; the gory pictures of Jesus hanging on the cross all bloody and injured and in pain. Apparently it didn't phase me though, because I just didn't feel "bad', or "sad" or anything really.  But when my own father looked so slumped over and sad, well, that was not something I felt comfortable with at all.  I remember thinking, "If he's sad, I guess I should be sad."  Yet the thing is, I wasn't sad at all.  I was so young I don't think I had experienced "sad" before.  In any case, I was sort of experiencing it then, in a round about way.

Fast forward to tonight.  I have felt more than sadness with the passing of too many loved ones.  The first was Dave, my boyfriend of two years.  We had argued two nights before he was killed, and the night before, he tried to call me.  I wouldn't take the call.  The grief I felt was so intense I cannot begin to describe it. If you have gone through such a thing, you know what I mean. A young guy of 18, gone, dead, no more life.  Words are too cheap to try and describe.  We had shared so many good times...but yet so many bad as well.  He will always be a part of my soul.  Even after all these years.

Then the next major loss was my father. He too was too young to leave.  Although he had a pretty good life, and was older, still...64 is not a time when someone should die.  

Fortunately I was with him five days before he died.  We went to see the play that he was in; he loved acting and was living his dream.    

We had a deep talk, deep for us anyway.  He told me things that I needed to hear, which of course, has stayed with me all of my life.  I miss him everyday.

“I had a daddy, didn't I? He wasn't perfect and he certainly wasn't the one I'd dreamed he would have been, but I had one all the same. And I'd love him as much as I'd hated him, hadn't I? All that distance, all that time wasted, but the fact that he'd inspired such passion in me meant something in itself. I can honestly say now that I think that's special. Screwed up and turned inside out, we were special him and me, and I am so thankful that I can say that I had a daddy and that he mattered. All his faults and failures mean nothing to me now.” 
― Melodie Ramone, After Forever Ends

When my mother died, she was 72.  She had been sick a long time, so I wasn't surprised when I received the call from my sisters. There is no love like a mother's love, and now she was gone.  The night before she died I was at the gym and heard the song, "Time After Time" by Cyndi Lauper.  I believe it was her speaking to me in a song.  

"Time After Time"

Lying in my bed I hear the clock tick,
And think of you
Caught up in circles confusion -
Is nothing new
Flashback - warm nights -
Almost left behind
Suitcases of memories,
Time after -

Sometimes you picture me -
I'm walking too far ahead
You're calling to me, I can't hear
What you've said -
Then you say - go slow -
I fall behind -
The second hand unwinds

[Chorus:]
If you're lost you can look - and you will find me
Time after time
If you fall I will catch you - I'll be waiting
Time after time

After my picture fades and darkness has
Turned to gray
Watching through windows - you're wondering
If I'm OK
Secrets stolen from deep inside
The drum beats out of time -

[Chorus:]
If you're lost...

You said go slow -
I fall behind
The second hand unwinds -

(Cyndi Lauper)

I want to first sort of give a tribute to Dave.  He was a young guy who had this hard exterior, but inside was as soft as a feather pillow. He was also a rebel.  He went to military school in early high school and would tell me how homesick he would get.  He took me to two proms and felt horrible when he admitted to me he couldn't dance.  

I wasn't a happy camper with that news.  He love his motorcycle...a BSA 650 

and he loved the movie "Romeo and Julet" produced by Franco Zeferelli, circa 1968, he had the album which his mother gave me after he died.

 He was a huge influence on my life

My father was an amazing, driven person with a will of iron.  

His determination always had, and still does, amaze me. He was an actor, 

............businessman and did the best he could at fathering even though he himself didn't have a father...at least a father who never really lived with him.  Mainly, his father figure was his older brother.  I always felt this connection with my father that was like no other.  I understood him .....that is the best that I can describe it.  I also stood up to him when others sort walked away from his emotional rants. He died  in the ambulance on the way to the hospital after he had been working in his garden, on the pond he always wanted. 

 He had a major heart attack.  He told the ambulance guy something like, "I think this is it for me."  I know  because I found the guy and called him, and asked him.

My mother...she taught me how to love, how to listen and how to think of others.  She was not only physically beautiful, she had a heart of gold for her children.  She was always there  for me, unlike my father.  When Dave died, she was there. she was there when the hair stylist butchered my hair and I went to her house sobbing.  She just hugged me and understood.  Not many would...I mean it's just hair, right?  Not! She was going downhill fast.  The night before she died she did a tape of how sick she was.  Apparently she was doing this sort of blog through cassettes.  Weird thing is, everyone received a card a day or two after she had died of her telling us she loved us.  

My mother was incredible and stood by me no matter what.  Her love was the closest thing to God's love here on earth.  (Love you mom!!!)

I told my husband that I would have to go first.  I cannot bear to think of him dying and leaving me to grieve.  That may sound selfish but so be it.  I couldn't take it.  I have been with him for 37 years and he is a huge part of my whole being.  I will die first. I do not want to live without him. (He hates it when I talk like this.)

I do think the dead are with us, can see us, still love us.  It goes against  Christian dogma, and I don't care.  




I remember when dad died, it was the strangest thing I have ever experienced in my life.  My husband was out of town and I was sleeping.  I was awakened by my father's audible voice.  "PEGGY"....I woke immediately and for a split second was sort of freaked..but then this sort of banner went through my mind, "don't give up your faith, you're on the right track."  I heard him say my name with my ears.  

I won't tell you how many dreams and other things I have had about young Dave..





.And my mother...wow...dreams, thoughts...I know she is still with me. 

There were others I have lost, but those are the most influential.  Memorial Day.....I remember well...here's to you my loved ones...we'll meet again in the sweet bye and bye.