Mom decorating a grave with mountain laurel while wearing my favorite dress — 1960s.
When I was growing up in West Virginia, Memorial Day was less about a day off from work or school and more about “decoration” at the church cemetery. We didn’t always hold Decoration Day ON Memorial Day, but it was always around this time.
The idea, going way back in Appalachia, was to set aside a day to care for family cemeteries. Many of these would be private affairs in someone’s back pasture or up on a hill. Family members would gather to mow, trim, mend fences, clean stones, and generally do a year’s worth of maintenance. Decorating the graves with flowers would be the finishing touch. Then, everyone would relax in shade and enjoy a picnic. In the cemetery. Which I think is nice.
My childhood Decoration Days were held in the cemetery at Laurel Fork Church, so it was pretty well maintained (mostly by my family who were assigned to mow it–sigh–that’s another story). It was more of a homecoming affair. Anyone who had kin buried there would turn up on a Saturday in early June with flowers, lawn chairs, and time set aside for visiting.
Early that morning, Dad would send us out foraging for flowers. I was usually on daisy duty. Dad gathered mountain laurel, Mom cut roses, and my brothers fetched baskets of ferns. Everything was piled up on the porch and we’d make flat bouquets to lay on the graves. First, lay down three or so ferns, then place flowers on top in a pretty design. Finally, snug it all together with a bit of twine.
We’d layer a dozen or so of these bouquets in a basket and drive to church. Laying the bouquets on the graves felt really special to me. I especially wanted to place them on my grandparent’s grave. I’d never known them but wished I had. If we had extra flowers, we’d put them on graves that didn’t have any whether we knew those folks or not. Dad probably knew them all.
Others would bring jelly jars of flowers so they would last longer but I like the idea that our bouquets were only good for a day or two. Then they would fade and die and sink back into the soil from whence they came.
After decorating the graves of the dead, folks would gather around and catch up on life. They sat in folding lawn chairs in the shade or went in the church to gather around the piano and sing hymns. That piano was NEVER in tune but that didn’t keep someone from banging out There’s Power in the Blood or Rock of Ages or I’ll Fly Away. Man, those folks LOVED to sing.
And the end result, for me at least, was that death didn’t seem so terrible. It was just part of the fabric of life. And one day, I hope a little girl will lay a bundle of field cut daisies on my grave, and then go inside a church to sing her heart out while an old lady with blue hair does her best with an out-of-tune piano.
What a lovely tradition; it sounds like such a wonderful time. Thank you for sharing your memories and the beautiful photo.
Isn’t the photo sweet? One of my favorites of Mom.
Love this. My grandmother who moved from Upshur County in 1910 to central Virginia always made a big thing of Memorial Day. We lived 3 miles from the Methodist Church, where my Grandfathers parents were buried and 3 miles from the Baptist Church where
my grandmother’s parents were buried. She always took flowers to both – usually peonies
which were in bloom then. I wish I lived closed enough to do each year but just too far.
Peggy
Me, too! Maybe I’ll take flowers when we visit next at the end of June.
What a wonderful bouquet of memories…. We have a family grave yard on my grandparents former property. My Mother and Dad are there. Property is now owned by my only brother. He keeps it mowed all summer. It’s in the middle of 68 acres and sits on the top of a hill that looks out for miles…… one huge cement cross sits in the middle and says “ Miller “ on it…..
I’m so glad he’s taking care of it! Honoring the past is important.
Thank you for sharing such a beautiful memory for us. It was so beautiful I could picture just what the day was like and maybe, if I stretched a little, I could hear some of the family members as they caught up with each other. Oh the beautiful, more peaceful times. I love to read your memories. While I grew up in the North, we had our own traditions and yours help me bring those back in my memory. Looking forward to next time.
Painting pictures with words is my favorite. So glad it spurred memories of your own.
Thank you for sharing those beautiful memories.