Cultures all over the world have ceremonies to honor loved ones who have passed away. Sometimes they are celebrations. Sometimes, they are solemn remembrances. And always, everywhere, stories are told. In the South, a tradition called Decoration Day persists as fiercely as the memories of the people whose lessons shaped our lives. Salvation South editor Chuck Reece has some memories of his own.

Decoration day

Decoration day

Credit: Adobe Stock

 

TRANSCRIPT:

CHUCK REECE: “The South claims death with as much loyalty as we claim our children.”

That sentence, which is both beautiful and true, comes from an Alabama writer named Jennifer Crossley Howard. She wrote it into a story I edited and published several years ago. And her story illuminated a custom I know well. It’s called Decoration Day.

Decoration Day happens annually, but on no set, agreed-upon date. When it happens depends on where it happens and which families make it happen. 

It is the day when families come together to honor their members who are gone from this Earth. When they clear away the detritus from the graves of loved ones — the fallen tree limbs, the remains of once-fresh flowers, or last year’s artificial ones that have faded from a year of weathering. 

Not long ago, a dear cousin of mine passed away about a month shy of her 86th birthday. I went back to our hometown and gathered with family and friends for her funeral. After her grave was filled, we watched as many wreaths of fresh flowers that had been sent in her remembrance were laid on her resting place. 

Sometime next year, probably in the summer, family members will gather on Decoration Day and put new flowers on my cousin’s grave.

Decoration Day is how many Southerners commune with the memories of our departed — and with family members we do not visit as often as we should.

A few weeks ago at Salvation South, the online magazine I publish, we received a submission from a Tennessee writer named Amanda Ashworth. And in it, she recounted a Decoration Day where her Granny is buried. It contained this passage: 

“My sister nestled a candle into the rocks on Granny’s grave and lit it. It burned for a moment before the wind snatched the flame. She didn’t try again, just left the candle sitting there. And then, after many minutes had passed, the candle lit itself. The dead don’t usually light their own candles, but Granny wasn’t usual.”

To claim death, I believe, is to claim life’s unsolvable mysteries. To live with them. To make peace with them. 

Decoration Days provide a few hours to celebrate the lives of people who played outsized roles in making us who we are as we keep on living. 

Amanda wrote this near the end of her story: 

“That Sunday at the cemetery, the wind kept on. It rattled the gates, stirred the silk flowers, and lifted the toddlers’ hair. But the candle stayed lit. Granny saw the candle and lit it her damn self. She let us try, then she showed us how it’s done.”

You can find the work of brave writers who share the intimacies of life in the South anytime you want when you visit SalvationSouth.com.

 

Salvation South editor Chuck Reece comments on Southern culture and values in a weekly segment that airs Wednesdays during Morning Edition and All Things Considered on GPB Radio. Salvation South Deluxe is a series of longer Salvation South episodes which tell deeper stories of the Southern experience through the unique voices that live it. You can also find them here at GPB.org/Salvation-South and wherever you get your podcasts.