It's Memorial Day, and I am upset.
And a bit pissed off.
I don't get it anyway - I'm from England. I remember my daughter every day, and it just got under my skin today when people were asking if we'd decorated the grave yet, because it was my responsibility as a mother (or H's as a father) to do it in time for Memorial Day.
I had some flowers for Josie, and I went and put them in the ground at her grave site. It just made me mad though, because in England we would have been able to dig into the earth at her grave and plant living flowers. You can't do that here because "the flowers will get mown over". Headstones, plastic flowers and if you're lucky, a metal thing to stick in the ground in which you are allowed to place one pot of real flowers, because the wonderful gardeners can't steer around planted areas. Amazing how they can in the UK - obviously they have different lawn-mowers.
Talking about metal things, H made a lovely one from scratch, but it's not quite ready yet.
Anyway so here we are, I'm decorating her grave with these plastic flowers because I'm obliged to do so because it's what everyone else is doing, and I sit there at the grave feeling angry. Plastic is not indicative of how I feel for her. Plastic is not a natural material. I'm not "into" silk flowers - not even these ones, which are so pretty, because they don't have any life force within them.
But whatever. It's done now. I sat there and put my hands on her little patch, and tried not to cry. I'm glad I was by myself.
Memorial Day. Every day is Memorial Day when you're me.