On our way to Audra State Park, my husband and I passed Mt. Vernon Memorial Cemetery. Situate in Barbour County along Rt. 119, the 75-year-old cemetery was quite noticeable; breathtaking really. It was not only immaculately groomed and adorned for Memorial Day weekend, but dozens of large American flags lined the acreage. Because of the strong breeze which coincided with the moment of our passing by, those flags were stretched wide and waving ever so perfectly. The image stuck in my head all day.

 

On the return trip, we decided to take a closer look – as well as a few photos. We pulled into the parking lot of Mt. Vernon United Methodist Church, which was itself a memorable vision against powder blue skies in their last moments of daylight. The day was fading and so had the gentle wind which caused the flags to wave and thus stir the soul just hours before. Still, it was a peaceful place to a true measure of Americana spirit.

 

As I was walking around taking it all in – deciding how to best capture the vision through my camera lens – I noticed another individual doing the same thing. In fact, he pulled his vehicle up near ours, rolled down his window and commented on the cemetery’s beauty. Side by side, he and I leaned against our cars and snapped photos of the hundreds of graves before us, chatting excitedly about the beauty of it all.

 

It was then that I noticed. I knew this guy. Out of the blue, I asked him if his name was Kevin. By then, I was sure of his pending answer. It was Kevin Kellar and I don’t believe our unlikely encounter was mere coincidence. It had been more than 10 years since we had seen each other; more than a decade since he had called me late one night to tell me wife Susie had passed on. She and I had become friends through a series of fateful happenings. That all culminated when I was assigned to write an Exponent-Telegram feature about her while she was battling cancer. The story was about her nomination for Citizen of the Year. You see, though she was suffering, she was spending her time uplifting other cancer patients; searching for ways to lighten their physical and emotional burdens. I remember the first time I knocked on her door. And after the interview, I returned many times; intrigued by her compassion and energy and soaking up every moment of Susie that I could.

 

During one of my last visits, I sat on the edge of her bed as she sat Indian style smack in the middle – a bandana on her head and a spread of magazines and books before her. In almost a giddy attitude, she showed me ideas for her own upcoming funeral. She said she wanted it to be a celebration. When Susan Keller left this earth, she left life lessons with those she encountered. Her true colors were indeed those of hope and heroism.

 

I’m thankful for my brush with Susie – and with Kevin Kellar on Sunday afternoon. It was a fateful reminder of why we must remember.