While there, we were privileged to see a funeral procession with a large band and two flag draped coffins, one caisson pulled by black horses, and one by white.
There was also a riderless horse, which I think means one of them was a commander of some sort. They were followed by, literally a "bus full" of mourners (walking). I have no idea who were being laid to rest, of course, but we prayed for them.
I thought of what my Dad says: the price of freedom has to be paid by each generation.
The generations we were visiting were in a quiet part of the cemetery. Dad was a WWII vet and Grandpa a WWI vet. I never met Dad (he died when the Emperor was 13) but I've heard enough to really wish I had.
He loved roses, in fact, he planted a rose that still blooms for me, so we always bring him roses when we visit. We had little bouquets for the three graves of our loved ones, but I also brought a few dozen camellias and gave them to the kids. They could pick any grave to put a flower on and pray for that person.
It was a lovely, peaceful, prayerful visit. I love All Souls Day. It's a beautiful reminder, in this dying season, that nothing is lost in God, and that, in death, our bonds of love are changed, but never broken.
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