You know, all of us have what we have, and are what we are because of the sacrifices of those who went before. Parents gave us life; teachers gave us knowledge; patriots gave us freedom. I wonder: Are we sufficiently appreciative?

My grandmother (is 90 years old. I love her dearly. She) has been my friend and teacher since I can remember. She’s like a kindred spirit to me, and has given me something very precious – a sense of my heritage; a tie to my past that I will forever cherish.

When she was just three years old her mother passed away, and her father was unable to care for her – and she was raised by another family. I’ve heard her speak before in a voice filled with love and longing of a faint memory of a beautiful dark-haired woman walking through tall meadow grass on a hill overlooking the Bear Lake carrying water for a flower garden. She remembers clinging to her mother’s hand as they walked. And then – almost like a dream – that beautiful woman fades in the mists of a time-worn memory.

This is my great grandmother, and this is all I know of her.

Last summer while on vacation, my family came over the mountain into Garden City, Utah. Our plans were to play in the Bear Lake for a couple of days. As we were approaching town, a thought struck me with great force.

I said to my wife, “Hey, wait a minute! I think this is the town where Grandma was from when she was a child. My great grandmother might be buried here!”

I felt an inexplicable sense of excitement. I could scarcely contain it. As soon as we were settled in, I began making phone calls to see if I could get directions to the cemetery. Finally by late that afternoon, we found the cemetery situated in the hills above town overlooking the Bear Lake. Oh, it – it-it was a beautiful spot.

I divided the children up, assigned each of them a row of markers, and we went looking. I wasn’t even sure we were in the right town, let alone in the right cemetery. It wasn’t long before Sharise let out a triumphant yell, “I found it!”

We all came running, and sure enough there it was: "Ann Mayne, Beloved Mother, 1872 - 1910.”

Well, the novelty soon wore off for the children and they scattered to explore. But me? – I didn’t want to leave. I know this sounds kind of strange, but it was like I found a connection to my past, like a dim memory was becoming a living reality.

As I sat and wondered about my great grandmother and what she was like, my attention was suddenly drawn to the western sky. The setting sun had burst through a hole in the clouds sending brilliant streams of light in all directions, and lining the clouds all around with a beautiful luminescent silver. Oh, it was breathtaking!

As I stared in awe, the Spirit of God came over me, and I felt an assurance that someday this grave would be thrown open, and this beloved mother would come forth with resplendent glory shining like the sun to rejoin her family, never more to be separated. To me it was a sign of things to come.

I have to say I still don’t know much about my great-grandmother, but now I feel like I know her. I end where I began.

All of us in the present stand on the shoulders of those in the past. May we not forget them, as I am confident they have not forgotten us.