A Time to Mourn — Remembering November 22, 1963

“A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance.”
— Ecclesiastes 3:4

There are moments in history that become woven into the memories of a family.

I was only four years old when President John F. Kennedy was assassinated in November of 1963. I was far too young to understand politics, or even to fully understand what had happened. But I understood that something was terribly wrong.

I remember my parents becoming very emotional over President Kennedy’s death. I remember my sisters crying as we watched the funeral on television. And even as a little girl, I could feel the sadness that seemed to have settled over our home and across the entire country.

There was another reason our family watched that funeral so closely.

My brother was attending the United States Naval Academy at Annapolis at the time, and as the naval midshipmen appeared during the funeral ceremonies, my sisters and I searched the television screen, hoping we might catch a glimpse of him among them.

So intertwined with my memory of a nation mourning its president is this very ordinary family memory: sisters sitting together, watching television, grieving with their parents, and looking through rows of young men in uniform for their brother.

All these years later, I am struck by how much children notice.

We may not understand the words being spoken around us. We may not understand history, politics, tragedy, or death. But we understand the faces of the people we love. We notice when our mother cries. We notice when our father grows quiet. We know when the world inside our home suddenly feels different.

Scripture reminds us that life contains many seasons.

There is a time to laugh and a time to weep. There is a time to celebrate and a time to mourn.

Faith does not ask us to pretend that sorrow does not exist. It gives us a place to carry it.

And perhaps that is one reason certain memories remain with us for a lifetime. They remind us not only of what happened, but of who stood beside us when it happened.

Today, as I remember November 1963, I remember President Kennedy and a nation stunned by tragedy.

But I also remember my family.

I remember my parents.

I remember my sisters’ tears.

I remember searching the television screen for my brother.

And I remember a four-year-old little girl who could not possibly understand everything she was witnessing, but somehow understood that it mattered.

Our homes hold these memories for us.

The joyful ones.

The painful ones.

The ordinary ones.

And together, they become part of the story of a family.

There is indeed a time to mourn. And there is also a time to remember.

🌿 Helene
Rosemary Thyme 🌿😊
Fall in Love with Home Again 💛🏠