“There is only one thing for us to do, and that is to do our level best right where we are every day of our lives; To use our best judgment, and then to trust the rest to that Power which holds the forces of the universe in his hands.” ~ Orison Swett Marden
The last stop dad and I made was the Holliday Cemetery at Ary, Kentucky. It’s so secluded by trees, and sits so far on top of the hill, that we missed it… twice. The surrounding mountaintops have been stripped of their coal, the natural landscape now drastically altered. But the cemetery’s hill remains untouched. There, in that hightop graveyard, dad’s paternal grandmother is buried. She died when he was only five days old, though she lived long enough to hold him once. The graveyard also holds cousin Eunice’s mother, Sylvania Terry Grigsby, her husband, and some of their children. Nearer the cemetery’s little church are buried two brothers that died in the Civil War. One fought for the Union, the other for the Confederacy. How perilously close our nation still walks that fine line. As we spew venom across social media (mostly), the news, or even in the local cafes and bars, those dead brothers lying side by side provide some perspective. I loved my day with dad, and paying our respects together to the ancestors high on that mountain was a fitting way to end our adventure. It’s critical to remember where you come from, and who your people are.