This past weekend my wife Margie and I participated in a fun event we call Breakfast with the Ancestors. Margie made a couple of egg casseroles, our friend Mike baked some banana bread, and we took our feast out to a little cemetery at the end of the lake.
It all started many years ago when my sister, Sandy, passed away tragically at the age of 42. My grieving mom didn’t know where to bury Sandy. That got Margie and me thinking about mortality, and where our family might want to be buried someday.
When Margie asked her mom where she and her dad would like to be buried, her mom didn’t hesitate to answer. “On the hill in that little cemetery at the south end of the lake, in the town of Scott,” she said.
So back in the 1970s Margie and I bought five plots in that cemetery—with lifetime perpetual care—for the exorbitant price of $50 each! We got a plot for my sister, Sandy, a pair of plots for Margie’s mom and dad, and a pair of plots for ourselves.
Today, Margie’s mom and dad and my sister, Sandy, are buried in that little cemetery. Plus, there are two empty plots with tombstones that read, “Ken Blanchard, 1939—” and “Margie Blanchard, 1940—”.
Some people think that’s a little sick—particularly when Margie and I lie down in front of our tombstones and pose for photos! But we are enjoying living our “dash”—that interval between the date of our births and the date of our deaths.
Celebration does wonders for the soul. By having a picnic around the tombstones every summer—sharing stories and remembrances of relatives and even beloved family dogs who have passed away—our family celebrates everyone’s dash. How do you celebrate yours?