I forgot what I was supposed to remember...

Today is Memorial Day. I'm not really sure what that means. It's a day off from work. It's a day to putter around the yard. It's the beginning of summer. It's a day to remember fallen soldiers. It's a day to remember deceased loved ones.

So why is it that everyone puts flowers on graves on Memorial Day? I am beginning to find this holiday as disgusting as Valentine's Day. You shouldn't need a calendar to remind you to make sure significant people in your life feel loved. Likewise, you shouldn't need size 8 font on a calendar to remind you to miss the ones you lost. Of course we miss those we lost. Are we really that busy and that overwhelmed by daily routines?

I miss my dad. My mom misses my dad. And the more we miss my dad, the more we love Doug, my stepdad. We are so damn lucky to have him in our lives. He makes pain become bearable, he makes funny become hilarious, and he makes our family strong. I had a fleeting thought that this Memorial Day I really should go see my dad's grave. But I heard my dad's voice - he told me that the best way to remember my dad is to go BE with my dad, Doug.

I drive past a cemetery each morning on my way to work. This winter, the grassy plots were a smorgasbord for deer. Fifty would gather each evening at dusk and munch away on the tufts of grass poking through the snow. This spring, the cemetery was once again deserted, save for a car that ostensibly belongs to the caretaker.

As I passed this morning, there was not a parking space to be seen. It was as if there was a wedding going on inside the chapel. I'm sure that this reason for gathering at loved ones' graves made people feel whole, as if they were doing right by their memories. I can't help it. It feels wrong. And this wrongness will only intensify as the summer wears on and the flowers fade, then wilt, with only an empty parking lot as witness.