We remember

This weekend's cruddy weather has made it easy to remember that this holiday is a somber one that has nothing to do with barbecues, camping or that unofficial start to summer. Friday, as soon as AJ was done with school, we headed to the Cities and to the cemetaries where my uncle and other family members are buried.

My Dad came prepared with more than knives and clippers this year. He revved up the weedwhacker and made quick work of clearing the grass that had dared to encroach on the grave stones.

Sticking with tradition, my Mom took lots of pictures and Jessica showed remarkable patience with my kids. Sydney wanted to help carry a water-filled vase. Amazingly, she didn't spill, nor did she stab herself with the pointy bottom.

AJ paid a lot of attention to the years listed for birth and death on the various stones, making comparisons of who would be oldest and who had been dead the longest.

Staring at row after row of marble stones, I couldn't help but wonder how many lives are represented here. How much grief has been felt here.

And then it was time for the ultimate tradition. The annual photo opp at the large monument that's near several of the graves we visit. You know how some moms measure their kids and draw lines on the closet wall to track their children's growth? Not my sister. But if you look at photos taken each year at this same location, you'll see how much my nephew and niece have grown from year to year.

My kids, of course, wanted to be part of the action. Until they started climbing and realized how narrow the ledge is. Then AJ got a little scared.

But it's all good. It's traditions like these that connect my kids a little more with the ancestors they never had a chance to meet, not to mention with the family that's living.