Memorial Day is not just for memories
By Cheramy Rusbuldt, Viewpoint
As life moves along, we all have memories. Some are happy ones. Others, not so much. I have recently noted the 13th date since My Dear Departed left my life, which means I also face another Memorial Day. We McKinney-ites are blessed to have some dedicated and reverent citizen-leaders who plan a Memorial Day commemoration at Pecan Grove Cemetery with all the bells and whistles to remind ourselves of and teach our children the historic value of sacrifice which has, for several hundred years, kept Americans safe.
Thirteen years ago, after Rusty breathed his last, I was faced with arranging a family/ friend/ co-worker get-together at the local funeral home in Virginia. It was Memorial Day weekend, and almost everyone had plans for the long-anticipated three-day holiday. As he wished, he had died at home in our Quaker farmhouse, captured in a rented hospital bed with much of our family at his side.
His father, brothers and sisters were all in the Tidewater region, unprepared for his demise. I had our daughter, her best friend, her husband, our first grandchild, Rusty’s closest friend, my dearest friend and our hospice nurse at the bedside. But, even today, after so many years, I cannot escape the grisly death scene we all witnessed.
It was hot. It was muggy. I gratefully, but sadly, took my place under the tent where all the local muckety-mucks (and a sprinkling of the questionably worthy – including yours truly) were awaiting the morning goings-on. I said hello to those I knew, met those I didn’t know, and squared myself for what was about to unfold. I was not prepared.
Our Congressional representatives made speeches. Our city fathers made speeches. There was a contingent of Civil War re-enactors entertaining the children. And then, it happened: “Taps.” Tears streamed down my face as I remembered those notes wafting over Arlington National Cemetery as my husband was about to be laid to rest in that hallowed ground. As the hundreds of well-wishers filed past the coffin poised for his last journey.
Coincidentally at Pecan Grove, there was a high-ranking Air Force officer seated next to me. When he heard my sobs, he put his arm around me...a perfect stranger...and held me up as the bugler surrendered the last mournful tones hanging over the assembly.
As I looked out toward the citizens sitting in the sun and humidity, I saw a woman who lives fairly close to me in the Historic District. We were acquaintances, but not really close friends. Her tears were for me and all the others who were there to respect our loved ones and those we didn’t even know. I will never, ever forget that moment, now frozen in time.
Harry McKillop, Reps. Sam Johnson and Ralph Hall and other dignitaries never knew about that. But Nina Ringley cried with me (and so many others that day) in remembrance of those who have gone before us.
If you have never participated in this moving event, please delay your barbecues, swim parties or whatever you have planned for Monday. Join your fellow citizens at Pecan Grove for your very own memory and an indescribable opportunity to share with your children what being an American really means.
It starts at 10 a.m. Take your chairs or blankets. Share in an experience which will truly enrich your lives and those of the people who matter to you. God Bless America.
Cheramy Rusbuldt is a free-lance journalist who lives in McKinney’s Historic District.
