A quiet remembrance -- Memorial Day and Frank's gardenias

Frank Willard loved his gardenias.

His wife Eileen and daughter Coleen delivered a few to his grave Saturday.

That same graveside will be festooned with American flags this weekend as Memorial Day observances are held at the New Bern National Cemetery.

The day after, Eileen will bring more flowers, and her own flag.

She and her family know him as husband, father and grandfather, and while they consider Memorial Day a fitting and proper occasion to recognize those who have risked life and limb in service to their country -- they refuse to limit their love by a mere calendar.

Retired Air Force Chief Master Sergeant Frank Willard, of Havelock, has the highlights of his 27-year career carved in the inscription on his grave. World War II, Korea and Vietnam are listed, but the memories most precious to his family are the simple things. Like his gardenias.

“We had gardenias when we were stationed in the Philippines,” recalls his wife of 43 years. “Every night when he came home he would count the flowers. He loved them so much, that when we moved to Havelock, he planted his own.”

The Willard home on Pineview Street now sports a six-foot tall bush. A few of the fragrant flowers are lovingly clipped once a week, and delivered to his resting place.

“As long as they are in bloom, I bring them to him,” she said. “And when there are no flowers, I come anyways. Sometimes with a flag. Around Valentines day I do something special and bring roses.”

“It’s a Memorial Day every day of the year since he died,” said his daughter, Coleen French. Now married and living in Virginia Beach, she accompanies her mother when visiting.

Eileen Willard places the small bunch next to the headstone, they step back and smile — and they remember. They remember more than just a serviceman.

“The service was a major part of his life and ours, but we will always remember him as a wonderful father and loving grandfather.”

Eileen Willard knows well the significance of Memorial Day. She carefully lists the names of family members who served and died in uniform.

Coleen looks across the cemetery and points to the obvious.

“Most of those buried here died so long ago, they don’t have any family to come and honor them. Memorial Day is a way to give them the recognition they deserve.”

The women depart the quiet cemetery with a final nod to Frank’s resting place. A touch of the headstone.

A quick realignment of the small bunch of flowers, and they leave.

The scent of Frank’s gardenias trails behind them.