I’ve always had trouble getting a grip on Memorial Day; I don’t relate to those somewhat strained parades of men in strange hats marching proudly down Main streets.

And it is, by definition, a grave and sorrowful day.

I try to think of all those people who died and are dying still so we can have the freedoms many Americans take for granted.

I wonder what the lost soldiers would make of their grandsons and great-grandsons murdering people in the U.S. capitol in the name of freedom. What a disgrace to their memories and courage.

I don’t think they would like it. For me, Memorial Day is a chance to remember. Right now, I remember all those dead children. And yes, I remember friends, family, and dogs.

I notice that this photograph is taken of the stones that mark Red’s gravesite in the pasture.

He was one of the great dogs in my life; he and Rose standing out from the others for their courage and skill, and empathy. I don’t think of him too often anymore, but he deserves to be remembered once in a while.

He did so much good for so many people.

The Mansion residents still miss him several years after his death.

I think of my mother, angry and frustrated by the men who blocked her every effort to live her own life and express the creativity that swelled inside of her.

I think of my father; he and I could never get along and relate. I can’t honestly say I loved or missed him; we had very little to do with one another.

I think of my sister, still alive, living near Canada with some friends, and I think it is clear we will not see one another again in this life.

I think of my daughter and granddaughter, who I haven’t seen in several years.

Grief and sadness are the prices we pay for love, and it’s a price I am happy and willing to pay.

Remembrance, like darkness before light, opens the door for what I have in my life, not just what is gone.

I think of the people I love and who love me, and I think of the friends I have made. And I think of the friends I have lost, forgotten, left behind, or have moved away from. I think of the people who support my work, the people who read my blog, support the Army Of Good, look at my pictures.

I think of Maria, Maria, Maria.

Life is such a rich tapestry. I guess I’m trying to say that pain is inevitable, but suffering is a choice. Memorial Day is supposed to be a grim holiday, and I think that is what it has inevitably become.

Human beings live to strive and be happy. Looking back rarely seems helpful to me.

It is important to remember the people we have lost and those who have sacrificed their lives for us. It is essential, just as it is essential, to reflect on the children slaughtered in their schools because we can’t protect them or won’t.

And the needy and the vulnerable and the refugees who sacrifice every day.

But for me, it is also essential to pivot. There is much to love in life, much love to celebrate, words to write, pictures to take, and color and light to be in awe of.

Insofar as life is a choice, my choice is to dwell on what I have, not what I have lost.

I want to acknowledge the past, but I don’t get stuck in it. My life is about the now. I can’t do anything about history, and I can’t know the future.

I can live my life and do my best for as long as possible.

For me, Memorial Day begins with remembrance and ends in gratitude and celebration.

This is going to be a quiet and primarily silent day for me.

I’m staying away from devices, from the cell phone, and even from my beloved cameras. I’ll hang around with books and dogs and Maria.

Our friend Ian the shearer is coming by at noon to discuss integrating poetry and creativity into his life, along with his day job cutting slate.

I’m looking forward to it. Helping the young is sacred work.

It is the job of the old to support, mentor, and encourage the young, making today a good and meaningful holiday.