The rain was relentless, and it epitomized the somber mood of this Memorial Day. I walked through the cemetery, glancing at the heavily decorated grounds. The place looked almost festive with the bright bouquets of red, white, and blue silk flowers. The plastic arrangements spelled out "Dad", "Son", or "Grandpa" and "Grandma" in sentimental monuments.

A few somber souls marched between the graves, paying respects to their loved ones lost. The grief saturated the place like the ever-present rain. The feeling of the place was overwhelming.

I had come to visit my father. As I approached his grave, I noticed my grandparents had been there earlier. The flowers spelled out "Son," and the thought of grandma and grandpa standing in the rain over the grave of their son was almost too much to bear.

Looking down at his grave, I thought about his life and the way he lived it. There are pleasant memories from when I was very young. But mostly I remember how his life ended and the affects of that unfortunate time on the rest of us. It's sad that those are the most pervasive memories. Because that was only a small portion of who he was.

Earlier today, my grandma saw a message wishing us all a "Happy Memorial Day," and she exclaimed with disgust, "What's there to be happy about on Memorial Day?"

I thought about that. And she is right. The holiday is a somber reminder of all the ones we have lost. It is meant to be a patriotic tribute to our great war heroes. So today I muse on death, the violent nature of my nation, and the well-being of my loved ones.

A somber occasion indeed.