Mother’s Day

As Mother’s Day gets into full swing, I pause to remember the women who made such a difference in my life. 

A white rose for each in hand, I drove to the cemetery where all three are spending their eternal rest.  On roads barely wide enough for an automobile, I creep along at the posted speed of 15 mph.  To my right, I pass the black angel and make a mental note to tell my older sister that she should write a post on the angel’s history - she knows it better then I do as it was put there long before I was born.

I slow to a stop at the first headstone of the three that I am visiting this lovely day.  The grave belongs to my Grandma Morely who, ironically, was the last of the three to die.  My son is with me and I repeat a tradition started back in the early 90’s.

“Grandma Morely taught me endurance and patience.” I began as I lay the rose down, “She had just about every cancer a person could have in the last thirty years of her life but she continued to fight because life was to precious to give up on.  Her optimism and desire to live her life on her terms made me realize at a young age that women could not only stand on their own, but be happy doing so.”

“I remember visiting her - she seemed so frail but strongly insisted on doing everything for herself.  She’d act insulted if I offered my arm as support while we walked around.  She would do dishes and make the bed herself even though she didn’t have a lot of strength.” My son fondly recalls.

“She had to face many things in her lifetime - including the loss of children - yet she stayed strong emotionally and lived to be 87 years old.” I conclude as we climb back into the car.

The second woman is number one as far as influences went - it is, of course, my mother’s grave.  My son waits in the car to give me the privacy I need.  I whisper “I miss you mom” and lay the rose down on her headstone.

“I remember Grandma signing to me when we’d drive places.  She loved singing ‘Old Shep’ - it always made me want a dog of my own.” My son started as I got in the car.  I nodded, trying to shrug off the sadness that has befallen me.

“She’d cook whatever I wanted whenever I stayed at her house.  I also remember her beautiful handwriting - no one writes like that anymore.” He goes on, ”It is so weird when people tell me they are spending time with their Grandma’s because mine have been gone for so long.  I envy them.”

“Mom suffered so much as a young girl.  Her father abused her which gave her no self-esteem.  She was practically afraid of her own shadow and often retreated into herself.  Later in life, she rose like the Phoenix from the rubble of her past and found happiness, independence, and confidence.  She showed me that it is never too late to change  as long as a person has breath, they can reinvent themselves.” I feel the tears welling in my eyes and quickly - faster then the 15 mph posted limit, drive to the final grave we are visiting today.

My son joins me at the graveside of his Great Grandma Hestness.  I put the rose between the headstones of her and her husband, Clarence.  “Grandma Hestness’s life showed me that I don’t want to be alone in my old age.  She sat around waiting for phone calls from her children - sometimes she had to wait a very long time.  When we did get together, she liked to play Shanghi and was quite cut throat about it.  She could - out of guilt or sympathy - get us to give her a card she needed, then go out on us all with a loud triumphant cry.” I smiled thinking about all the times I fell for her ‘poor me’ routine only to have her leave me with a fistful of cards.  She didn’t like to lose.  I learned to dislike competitive things from her.  I found it was more satisfying letting someone else take the glory - I am a background worker and content to be so.

As we leave the cemetery, my son wishes, once again, that his grandparents were still alive.  “Just think of all the things in history that they experienced first hand.” He sighs, “I wish I could visit with them to hear their stories.”

I nodded.  I have often wished the same thing.  I wish I had realized what a wealth of information they were back when I was young so I could have paid better attention…but I didn’t and now the opportunity is lost forever.