Dad was born on July 3, 1927 in Wilson County, NC. Somewhere nearby, I am sure someone was shooting fireworks into the air. Dad used to claim that all the fireworks on that day and the day after (July 4) were in celebration of his birth. And we would laugh.
But, since his death in 1996, every time I see fireworks (no matter what time of year or what particular day), I think of him. It is fireworks more than anything else that remind me of him.
I went by dad and mom's graves not long ago. Dad was buried in the veterans section of the cemetery, near the flags. He and mom rest there, and my sister is buried in the same cemetery, not very far from their graves.
In the hymn, O God, Our Help in Ages Past, there is a verse that says, "Time, like an ever rolling stream, bears all who breathe away. They fly forgotten as a dream dies at the opening day."
It is tough to think that those who lie in their graves today will someday be forgotten and no one will really know who they were.
There should be a day that we dedicate to the memory of all who have died before us. A day in which we intentionally remember those who "fly forgotten in the ever rolling stream of time."
And, it should be a day of celebration, not mourning, with music, and food, and fireworks.