Every year before this one, I always wished everyone a Happy Memorial Day. Because that’s what you say, right?
I would’ve been excited about the three day weekend and the unofficial start of summer. Praying for nice weather for the official opening of the pool. Probably trying to decide which book to read next if I wasn’t already into one. And of course looking forward to hot dogs or hamburgers or maybe both.
But this year something changed. I started questioning the use of the word “Happy” with “Memorial Day.”
I’m sure it had to do with being moved to tears during our jaunt to the Garden of the Missing in the American Cemetery at Normandy last summer.
I’ll never forget our tour guide on the way to the cemetery telling us to be sure to see it. How very beautiful it was.
I remember thinking, It’s nice, and the roses are pretty and all but it’s kind of plain and subdued as far as gardens go. Wonder why she thought this was so nice?
Right about then is when my husband said, more to himself than me, “My God. Look at all the names.”