The Right Thing To Do

Part 1

My son graduated from college this weekend.  It was a perfect May day that  showed the rewards of the wonderful spring rains:  lush green grass and green trees punctuated by the beautiful, vibrant colors of the spring flowers.  With Mother Nature providing a gorgeous backdrop, the commencement activities began.  

Joyous is the only word that describes seeing hundreds of excited, ready-to-take-on-the-world, college graduates finally celebrating their achievement after years of hard work.  They spent countless hours pouring over textbooks, studying, taking tests, working on projects, and writing essays just to hear their name called and make a short walk across a stage to do one thing -   collect a simple piece of paper.  

But oh, the possibilities that simple piece of paper offers!  The opportunity of  doing what they have longed to do and living the life they have dreamed.

As a parent, I beamed equally with pride on the day Tom was born as I did on this, his college graduation day.  As I held him in my arms in the hospital I already had dreams for him.  I dreamed he would grow up to be a happy, fun-loving, encouraging, compassionate man with a heart for others.

My dream came true. 

His dream was to teach children.  I can not imagine a more perfect profession for my son.  He has a wonderful heart, speaks kind words, and loves to help people whenever possible.  While I knew all along he had everything he needed to be a great teacher, he now has that simple, but important, piece of paper that declares him well equipped.

Look out world.  There is one amazing, young man who is eager to teach and encourage the next generation. 

It is just the right thing to do. 

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Part 2

On the 2-hour drive home from Tom's graduation I spotted a pretty church steeple off in the distance.  Since I had my camera along and it was such a beautiful day, it was a great opportunity to take some pictures.  We drove the winding gravel road that led us back to the church and as we rounded the corner into the parking lot we discovered that tucked next to the church, unseen from the road, was a cemetery beautifully decorated for Memorial Day.

 I love cemeteries on Memorial Day.  I love seeing the flags lined up.  I love watching them blow in the breeze and hearing that crisp "snap" that occurs  when the wind catches them just right.  I love seeing people remembered with colorful flowers and plants in a variety of colors and sizes, bringing to life what is otherwise endless rows of gray and brown headstones. 

When my parents used to visit cemeteries to decorate the graves of their parents and other relatives, I remember how sad my mom would be when she would spot a grave that was not cared for.  I can still hear her say, "That is just a shame."  Not only did my Mom take care of their loved ones' graves, she would stop and clean headstones or right flowers that had tipped over on other graves.  She wanted each person's final resting place to be respected and cared for.  

It was just the right thing to do.  

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Part 3

On Sunday we headed to Waterloo to put flowers on the grave of Michael's parents.  They are buried in a beautiful, well-manicured cemetery with huge, stately trees that give wonderful shade.  

Sometimes it doesn't seem possible that I now find myself doing what my Mom and Dad did all those years:  visiting the graves of parents and leaving flowers and/or mementos to signify that while they may be gone from our physical presence they are far from forgotten.  Sometimes I wonder where the years have gone. I wonder when I arrived at adulthood (specifically adulthood without living parents). And I wonder how time has slipped away from me.

We cleaned off their headstone taking care to brush any dirt and pine needles aside.  We cleaned the vase and placed flowers in it with the stems bent just so in order to make a nice full bouquet.  Then we spent a quiet moment enjoying the peaceful setting.  

I bent down and picked up two pine cones that were lying near their graves and placed them next to each other on the headstone. Michael's mother loved nature and taught him to love it just as much as she did.  I thought the pine cones seemed only fitting.  We slowly headed back to the car and got ready to leave.

On the way out of the cemetery I noticed a grave where two vases of flowers had tipped over.  I had Michael stop the car.   I got out and headed over to  right the vases and flowers.  While doing so I glanced at the headstone and saw that the deceased had been a Corporal in the Army. 

As I put the vases and flowers back in place I silently thanked him for his service.  He likely served his country for one reason:  

It was the right thing to do. 

So was righting his flowers.