This past Memorial Day, my parents, two boys and I drove to Provo to visit my grandparents' graves in the Provo Cemetery. I have never seen anything like the spectacle of colorful flowers strewn across the site. It seemed we weren't the only ones with this idea, and I love that about where we live. Liam had the honor and responsibility of carrying and delivering my dad's home-grown daffodils to the gravestone. He carried out his duty very well.
Of course, he had to make a few stops along the way.
Aiden enjoyed the fresh air and I wonder if he felt the nearness of his Great-Grandma and Great-Grandpa. They say babies can sense these things...
It's important to me to remember those who came before me. I have tried to learn as much as I can about my ancestors lives through a newfound obsession with genealogy. I have always had an interest in it, pouring over family photos and treasuring family artifacts from long ago. Hopefully experiences like this will help my kids understand the importance of family history as well...to know who they are and where they came from and to be thankful for the sacrifices of our forefathers and mothers.
Below, I'm explaining to Liam that the gravestone says "Rawson," just like his middle name is Rawson as well as his Mamma's. We explained that a cemetery is somewhere we go to think about our family who lived long ago. Later, he told us "I'm going to go over here to think about my daffodils."
My dad comes from a long line of great people, dating back to the early Mormon pioneers and even British nobility (so noble, in fact, that some fought on the side of the British during the Revolutionary War! They ended up being dispossessed to Canada for some time before returning to America and joining the Church.)
Standing at attention.
My grandparents were the salt of the earth. I only remember bits and pieces of Grandpa as I was only ten when he passed. We didn't live near them very often when I was little because we were stationed on various duty stations across the country. I remember him reading me stories and that he loved the outdoors, much like my dad. He sold insurance for years and I'm sure would love the fact that I've become an insurance agent. He tried to get my dad to take over the business but Dad never felt it was his calling. Grandpa served in World War II and also as a Ward Bishop, although I hear he found the temple as mystifying as I do. All I can say is, it's no wonder I am the way that I am...
Grandma loved to paint, nature scenes specifically. She was born in Coalville, but also lived in Ogden and Los Angeles growing up. She always had Werther's Originals lying around and I still think of her when I encounter them or see a MacGyver rerun. Her favorite flowers were lilacs and she was somewhat of a tomboy as a child, much like I was. She loved camping and the great outdoors. Bill and Virginia loved each other and each of their children and welcomed my mom into the family with open arms, noting that "we have loved Penny since the day we met her, - she is exactly right for Steve..." I love that they recognized this despite such obvious differences between my parents.
Virginia and Bill Rawson with children, Carole, Steven, and James, Hawaii circa 1952.
The following is an account written by Virginia Rawson: "Bill was not called up for service until August of 1943, so we had 2 1/2 years together before being separated for over two years. We also had a beautiful baby daughter, Carole, born November 14, 1942, and having the joy and responsibility of Carole helped me through a long, lonely period. Bill was sent to specialist school in Virginia following his army basic training, and was then assigned to the 37th Infantry Division in the South Pacific. He was on the island of New Caledonia, the Bougainville, and finally went into the Philippines with the invasion forces. We wrote to each other every day he was gone and I have kept nearly all of the letters he sent." Grandpa returned home on February 14, 1946. Grandma wrote, "Apparently we were the only people who knew when the ship was due to arrive and were the only people on the dock to meet the ship. Needless to say, it was a touching moment, and there were few dry eyes on board the ship."
We love you, Grandma and Grandpa! Happy Memorial Day.
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