The need to show respect and honor our ancestors is ingrained in our hearts

We made our yearly rounds of the cemeteries and put flowers out on the graves of our ancestors and some we can't even figure how they fit into the family in the past. Doesn't matter much, if my sainted mother put out flowers, we are bound by honor and love to continue. The trip to my home country is a long one and, because we would visit the graves of loved ones, not real pleasant.

We left the offspring early on Thursday with a sigh of relief. There have been times we left and worried, but not now. The rock pile is well taken care of without us there, but I will not tell them. We drove until almost dark and found a motel with a light on. My close relative would not let me check us in there. We traveled a few miles before we came upon a fancy place with a lobby decorated like a palace, and she checked us in while I got the luggage out. The steakhouse next door saved the day, so I slept good and we took off the next morning at daylight.

The trunk of her car was loaded with flowers as we hit the first cemetery, referred to by my family as a graveyard, while the air was still cool. My great-grandparents and some of their offspring were buried there. Folks began to arrive while we laid out the flowers, and we met some who remembered my family. But, that memory is owned by only the older of the area and then even the memory will be gone.

We made the next stop about two hours later. Nothing is close together in a big country, ranches, stores or cemeteries. Here, my grandparents on my pappy's side and his sister and her family were laid to rest, and we cleaned off the headstones and put the decorations of respect on their graves.

It was 38 miles to the hometown graveyard where my grandparents on my sainted mother's side, her and my pappy, my sister's baby girl and some aunts and cousins were laid to rest until the Lord comes again. The stones told the story, all believed in the great resurrection and that made a hard and throat-catching trip bearable. We emptied the car and drove very quietly on to a little town that had a Tasty Freeze for a cold drink. We just didn't feel like eating.

It is my opinion, and everyone has one, the need to show respect and to honor our ancestors is ingrained in our hearts and we are blessed to learn from them. The deaths of loved ones are hard, never ever stop wishing for them for the rest of our lives, but we see the light at the end of the tunnel if we are children adopted into the family of Christ. Makes this old feller's trip a lot easier!

Think about your legacy, and try to fly right!

Bill is the pen name used by the Gravette-area author of this weekly column. Opinions expressed are those of the author.

Editorial on 06/06/2018