As I Remember

Every glorious day here on earth is a new beginning. As I’ve aged, I’ve become more grateful to wake up each morning and greet a new day.

It’s a fresh start.

Something that usually brings me immense joy.

When April rolls around though–even as Spring is working her magic–the days seem to have a little less color.

I’m aware of an unwelcome shadow over my life, but I don’t know why.

Then it hits me. The Anniversary Effect; a reaction to traumatic memories like the death of a loved one.

This is where my parents left me–both sets.

~~~

We moved to Georgia in 1981 with our six-month-old son and I stayed with my in-laws until my husband Michael was discharged from the Navy the following May.

Being almost a thousand miles from home, a first time mother, and away from my sweetheart, it all could have easily turned into a disaster. But my new family loved me well and treated their first grandchild like a prince.

They became my mom and dad while I was far from home and without my own mom and dad.

My mother-in-law was still working then, so my father-in-law and I spent a lot of time together while I was living there. The prince and I went with him when he did the weekly grocery shopping. I fixed his lunch most days. We played cards together every now and then (mostly rummy and he mostly won).

After Michael came home and we moved to Atlanta (he had a job already lined up there) we would go up to his folks house fairly often on weekends.

My mother-in-law taught me how to cook chicken livers and fry okra. She shared her cornbread dressing recipe with me which I cook every Thanksgiving to this day. She introduced me to the nuanced world of beans and peas.

I loved these people–they were family.

~~~

My father-in-law left us first. That was in April of 1992. He did one thing before he died that I’ll never forget. He said to me, “I love you, hon.” He didn’t say, “We love y’all,” as was his habit the whole thirteen years I knew him.

He looked right at me and said I love you and my heart broke wide open.

In 1998, my mother-in-law left us. Another April. My sister-in-law and I were with her when she took her last breath. It was a very humbling experience. It was the first time I was with someone when they died and I felt stunned and awkward and it didn’t seem real.

My mother-in-law had told me once that she wished she had been able to tell her mother that she loved her when she was dying, but they didn’t do that in her family. I remember thinking about how sad that must have felt.

My mother and father not only told us that they loved us, they told each other. My mom would say, “I love you,” then my dad would say, “I love you more.”

In their later years, my mom would triumphantly announce, “I love you morther.” I guess that was the winning phrase. It was very sweet.

My mother was with us until May of 2012. I was there along with my dad, two of my sisters, and my oldest son when she took her last breath. Again, it was so humbling to bear witness to the strength and frailty of human life.

My father died in April of 2014. The eleventh-the same date as my mother-in-law. He died in the same hospice room at the same hospital as my mother had almost two years before.

I think these little coincidences distract us from falling totally apart or make us feel it was meant to be.

Part of the plan.

~~~

As April and May roll around once again, I am saddened, melancholy.

I feel somewhat separated from myself as I am separated from my loved ones.

I realize, once again, that I am an orphan and after feeling this way for a month or so, I decided to be grateful.

After all, it wouldn’t hurt so much if they hadn’t been so wonderful, if I hadn’t had such full and loving relationships with them.

Next year, I’m going to do a little better. I’d like to plan something to celebrate the lives I was so fortunate to be a part of–sort of like a preemptive strike.

Something to keep the blues at bay.

I think a bonfire that I can sit around with other orphans and half-orphans–young and old–where we can swap stories about the great times we had with our loved ones while we were all together here on earth would be a great start.

By the end of the night, I will feel the love we shared and not feel so alone.

When the wind surrounds me and whispers, “I love you,” I will whisper back, “I love you morther.”

~~~