Call me weird, but Memorial Day is one of my favorite holidays. It has nothing to do with the start of summer or the first big outing of the year. Memorial Day to me is about Malachi's words concerning Elijah: "And he shall turn the heart of the fathers to the children, and the heart of the children to their fathers."
When I was a kid, each Memorial Day we'd gather the lilacs, the snowballs, the iris and whatever roses might be in bloom and make a bunch of Mason jar bouquets to take down to Spanish Fork City Cemetery. We placed the flowers, then Dad walked me around and told me the stories of all his uncles, aunts, cousins and other ancestors who were at rest there. Invariably, we'd run into some distant cousins who would tell me how I'd grown. Later we'd head up to Provo where Grandma Geneva had a nice picnic dinner for us, and I'd go mess around with my cousins.
Nowadays, I'm far away from Spanish Fork. Uncle Paul does a great job of marking the graves, but I miss those days -- especially the part where Dad told me the stories...may he rest in peace.