Sister Update 10 (and a bit more) - Today, Dec. 3rd, was my mothers birthday. She was born in 1931 and passed away in 2009. Every year, on her birthday, I make a pilgrimage to her grave site in Gilmer, TX and leave a gift on her grave. Some years I go alone...sometimes I bring friends or family. Even five years later, it is still an emotional experience. I always bring a book to leave for her. She was a voracious reader...westerns, the classics, inspirational, gothic romance, and mysteries. Today I put a very old western paperback western and a Perry Mason novel in a zip lock bag and loaded my family in the van and headed that way. Before we left town, we dropped by the hospital to check on my sister and was pleasantly surprised to see her in good spirits and talking loud and clear. She was anxious for the Arrow TV show to come on and wanted us to make sure that she had the set on the right channel. As we waited on the shows air time, to make sure we had it right, we had a nice conversation about mom and life in general. I told sis I was going out to the grave and she said she wished she could go with me. I told her we would tell mom hi for her. We also discussed the fact that my youngest great-niece also had a birthday today and turned 1 year old. I briefly allowed my mind to wander down philosophical paths of the circles of life, but shook it off when Arrow did come on and we left my sis watching the program and promised to return in the morning. The trip to the grave was uneventful. We looked at Christmas lights on houses along the way and we played a game where we had to speak and answer each other only in song titles. It made the time go quick and before I knew it, we were pulling into the little church parking lot there on the Cherokee Trace in Gilmer. It is the Cherokee Baptist Church...a church that my father helped to build and that my family were founding members of. Memories of a much younger and smaller version of myself running through the aisles and begging my Aunt Nell for the candy she always seemed to have in her purse filled my head as I stared at the small white building. Eventually, I turned the van and the lights fell on the gates of the small cemetery. It occurred to me that this was sort of funny. Most of the time when I pull up to a cemetery late at night, I am ghost hunting or taking pictures for my books...this was entirely different and yet I was filled with more emotion and dread than any ghost could have instilled in me. We got out of the gate and Heather handed me the small, battery operated, crystal Christmas tree i had brought along to leave on the grave with the books. It seemed small and puny here in the night, but I knew if my mom could see it, she would love it. The gate opened easily and we walked the short distance to where mom is buried beside my father and two brothers. I remembered each funeral vividly and a somber sadness settled on me like the hug of a long lost friend. I stooped before my moms headstone and placed the books there, taking note that the books I had left the year before were still there and in remarkably good shape considering they had been in the elements for full year. I then turned on the little tree and sat it on the ground in front of the stone. And I began to talk... I told my mom of all the things that had happened through the year. I let her know my kids were doing well, and that today was her great granddaughters birthday as well. I told her about my tours, and my events, and my friends. I told her that times had been rough lately and I wished she was still around because I knew one hug from her would make it all better. I held together fairly well until we turned to go and I said goodbye. The lump that had steadily been building in my throat finally caught and my eyes became faucets that i could not turn off. We began the ride home in quiet...as I watched the little crystal tree, glowing different colors on her grave, fade into the distance in my rear view mirror. I said it still hurt...five years later. I said somehow i still expected her to greet me when i get home, or to come around a corner and ask me how things were going. And I cried. i turned on some music very loudly so that there would be no conversation and I halfheartedly tried to sing along to stop thinking about things. It was working fine until i got almost back to Tyler and a song my mother had loved came on my MP3. It was Rex Allen Jr. singing Last of the Silver Screen Cowboys. All the memories of us watching old westerns and her animated stories of going to the old Arlyne theater and Rembrandt theater in Longview, TX as a child and watching Gene Autry, and Roy Rogers, and Hopalong Cassidy came crashing in on me and my eyes started doing their ocean producing tricks again. I stopped singing and let the song play...and tried not to let my kids see the tears streaming down my face. We made it home, and I sucked it up and managed to make it to my desk without too much notice being taken. I wiped my face and tried to be happy as I told the kids goodnight and began working to get my life back in order. I realized on the long ride home that I have many things to do, not the least of which is to swallow my pride. I heard my moms voice in my head telling me I had to do what I had to do...and it would be ok...I would make it. I know that sounds a bit cryptic...but its too much to go into here. Just know that I have much to do, and not much time to do it. But whatever happens...I believe my mom is still here...still watching over us...still loving us...and I believe i saw her in my sisters hospital room too. Love never dies. It is the strongest thing there is. And a mothers love trumps it all...except maybe the love of a son for his mother. Listen to the song attached if you feel like it. It was one of Moms favorites. I put it on here for her birthday....so this ones for you Mom...enjoy...and Happy Birthday. https://youtube/watch?v=1mXMEF50A68
Posted on: Thu, 04 Dec 2014 10:47:08 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015