About a year after Eddie's death, I decided it was time to make some changes to the house. Up until then, I had left everything exactly as it was when Eddie was alive. We built the house in 1989 and it had been our home for 20 years. During the first year after his death I didn't feel right about changing anything - it seemed like I would have been betraying him in some way. In time though I realized that if I was going to stay in the house I had to make it more mine and less ours. It wasn't that I wanted to get rid of memories of Eddie or to do away with things that he liked. I just needed to change things so the house would reflect me instead of us.
The original wallpaper in the kitchen and both bathrooms came down and was replaced with brown and green paint. I changed throw rugs throughout the house, rearranged furniture, and put up new curtains. I bought new wall pictures for every room and put out lots of flower arrangements and candles. I think I personally kept Pier I, Kirklands, and Kohls in business for a few months! I felt a little twinge of regret each time I removed something old, but I also felt a sense of hope when I added something new. I became a little more comfortable in the house with every change. In time it began to feel like a home again - my home.
I've continued to make changes over the past two years. I gave Eddie's big leather recliner to Trey and replaced it with a smaller one more suited to me. The deer head that hung over our fireplace for 20 years is now proudly displayed in Trey's home. I've replaced the stove and dishwasher in the kitchen and the television in the living room. I have a dinette set in the kitchen and a living room table that my grandmother gave me, and I kept an antique secretary and grandfather clock that belonged to Eddie's grandparents.
Now I have a good mixture of items that represent both the past and the present. My home is a combination of what was his, what was ours, and what is now mine. I replaced material things, but the memories will always be here. The big difference is that I have something I can be comfortable with. What was just a house for the first year after Eddie died is once again a home.
"Memories are treasures that time cannot destroy. They are the happy pathway to yesterday's bright joy."
-Helen Steiner Rice
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Christmas Changes
It's hard to believe, but another Christmas has come and gone. This was the third one without Eddie, and each has been different. I expected the first one to be hard, hoped the second one would be a little easier, and didn't know what to expect this year. Of course I was right about the first year - it was a very difficult, emotional time. I didn't want to decorate, shop, bake, or do any of the things I had done in the past. I managed a scaled back version of all of these things because of Trey and Emily. If it hadn't been for them I probably would have skipped Christmas altogether. We had a lot of company on Christmas Eve that year which helped. Then Trey, Emily, Mama, and Daddy all spent the night. Emily had her Santa Claus Christmas morning, and that kept us all busy. As the day went on though everyone gradually left, and I spent Christmas night alone for the first time in my life. It was then that I gave in to a little period of self pity, which I think is okay as long as you don't do it too often or for too long.
I had read and heard from others that the second year after a loss is sometimes harder than the first, so I tried to prepare for that. I wouldn't say the second Christmas was any harder, but it wasn't easier either - it was just different. This time we were having Emily's Santa Claus and all of our company on Christmas day, so no one spent the night on Christmas Eve (though Mama did offer). Again I did something for the first time in my life - I woke up alone on Christmas morning. I know there are plenty of people who do that every year, but when it happens for the first time in 49 years it's a very lonely, empty feeling. Of course, once everyone arrived the rest of the day was very busy so there wasn't time for self pity, which was a good thing.
No one ever says anything about the third year after a loss, so I was on my own to find out what this Christmas would be like. I took it as a good sign that I wanted to decorate more than in the past two years, and I certainly didn't scale back my shopping this year! I also made a decision to do something special for Trey, which ended up helping me a great deal in the process. I put together a photo album of Eddie starting with our wedding day. I spent hours going through old pictures deciding which ones to include. This was the first time since his death that I had really looked at pictures of him (other than the ones around the house), and I actually found myself smiling and even laughing at some of the memories. I didn't want the album to be depressing for Trey, so I wrote a lot of funny captions and added some silly stickers to the pictures. Once I finished, I looked at the album from beginning to end several times before I wrapped it. The memories brought tears to my eyes but made me feel good at the same time. I gave the album to Trey on Christmas Eve while Eddie's dad was here so they could look at it together. Of course it made them cry, but they also shared some laughter, which I think was good for both of them.
The big difference in this Christmas was that we spent Christmas morning at Trey's house. Another first for me since we'd had Christmas at our house from the time Trey was born 27 years ago. It was a good change though because it gave us the chance to start making new memories in a new place. Sometimes traditions need to be changed after a loss, and I think it made Trey proud to have us in his home Christmas morning. There was a lot to be thankful for with my 96 year old grandmother, my mother, my father, Trey, and Emily all there - five generations together at the same time isn't something that many people get to experience. I know these are new, happy Christmas memories that we will all cherish for the rest of our lives.
"Every day we live is a priceless gift of God, loaded with possibilities to learn something new, to gain fresh insights." Dale Evans Rogers
"This is the day the Lord has made; we will rejoice and be glad in it." Psalm 112:24
"Today is unique. It has never occurred before and it will never be repeated. At midnight it will end, quietly, suddenly, totally. Forever. But the hours between now and then are opportunities with eternal possibilities." Charles Swindoll
I had read and heard from others that the second year after a loss is sometimes harder than the first, so I tried to prepare for that. I wouldn't say the second Christmas was any harder, but it wasn't easier either - it was just different. This time we were having Emily's Santa Claus and all of our company on Christmas day, so no one spent the night on Christmas Eve (though Mama did offer). Again I did something for the first time in my life - I woke up alone on Christmas morning. I know there are plenty of people who do that every year, but when it happens for the first time in 49 years it's a very lonely, empty feeling. Of course, once everyone arrived the rest of the day was very busy so there wasn't time for self pity, which was a good thing.
No one ever says anything about the third year after a loss, so I was on my own to find out what this Christmas would be like. I took it as a good sign that I wanted to decorate more than in the past two years, and I certainly didn't scale back my shopping this year! I also made a decision to do something special for Trey, which ended up helping me a great deal in the process. I put together a photo album of Eddie starting with our wedding day. I spent hours going through old pictures deciding which ones to include. This was the first time since his death that I had really looked at pictures of him (other than the ones around the house), and I actually found myself smiling and even laughing at some of the memories. I didn't want the album to be depressing for Trey, so I wrote a lot of funny captions and added some silly stickers to the pictures. Once I finished, I looked at the album from beginning to end several times before I wrapped it. The memories brought tears to my eyes but made me feel good at the same time. I gave the album to Trey on Christmas Eve while Eddie's dad was here so they could look at it together. Of course it made them cry, but they also shared some laughter, which I think was good for both of them.
The big difference in this Christmas was that we spent Christmas morning at Trey's house. Another first for me since we'd had Christmas at our house from the time Trey was born 27 years ago. It was a good change though because it gave us the chance to start making new memories in a new place. Sometimes traditions need to be changed after a loss, and I think it made Trey proud to have us in his home Christmas morning. There was a lot to be thankful for with my 96 year old grandmother, my mother, my father, Trey, and Emily all there - five generations together at the same time isn't something that many people get to experience. I know these are new, happy Christmas memories that we will all cherish for the rest of our lives.
"Every day we live is a priceless gift of God, loaded with possibilities to learn something new, to gain fresh insights." Dale Evans Rogers
"This is the day the Lord has made; we will rejoice and be glad in it." Psalm 112:24
"Today is unique. It has never occurred before and it will never be repeated. At midnight it will end, quietly, suddenly, totally. Forever. But the hours between now and then are opportunities with eternal possibilities." Charles Swindoll
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Moving Forward
I went back last night and for the first time read what I've written from the beginning. There's been so much else going on lately that I couldn't remember where I left off in telling my original story. I was surprised to find that reading it all wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. I cried a few times. I even laughed a couple of times. But mostly I just remembered, and as I read I realized how far I've come since "that night". I know that I'm still not over what happened, and I probably never will be. I really don't think you ever get over losing someone you love. Actually I'm not even sure what being "over" it means. It's not like reading a book or watching a movie. When those are over you're finished with them. You don't dwell on them, and they don't stay with you for the rest of your life. But life isn't a book or a movie - when a loved one dies, we're not finished with them. They do stay with us for the rest of our life. They become a part of who and what we are, and that's a good thing. So getting over what happened isn't a goal of mine anymore.
My two goals when I started writing were to help myself move forward with my life and to possibly help others who might be going through something similar in their lives. I think I've made a great deal of progress toward the first goal. Writing about what happened, what it did to me, what I did and said, how I felt and still feel has truly helped me. I've written things that I never shared with anyone before - not my family, not my closest friends, not even the counselor or pastor I was seeing. Sharing these things has lightened some of the burden I was carrying and has allowed me to start moving on with my life - not my life as it was before but a new life. I know I can benefit from continuing to write though because I'm not where I want to be yet. Hopefully I'll know when I get there!
Sometime in the near future I would like to focus more on the second goal. I've heard from people over the past few months who have read what I've written. Some of them have told me that something I said inspired them or gave them strength. Some said they were just relieved to find out someone else thought or felt the same as they did. Others have shared similar experiences they had in their life. I'm thankful for any little bit of good my story has done for someone else, and I would like to find a way to do more. I don't have a counseling degree, so I can't professionally counsel others (and at this point I don't have any plans of going back to school for another degree!). But I would like to speak to individuals or groups about alcoholism, suicide, or both. I want to continue to share my story in the hope that my experience will help someone else. The thought that something good can possibly come out of something so bad helps me keep moving forward.
The Lord says, "Do not remember the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I will do a new thing, now shall it spring forth; shall you not know it?" Isaiah 43:18-19 NKJV
I'm eager to encourage you in your faith, but I also want to be encouraged by yours. In this way, each of us will be a blessing to the other. Romans 1:12 NLT
My two goals when I started writing were to help myself move forward with my life and to possibly help others who might be going through something similar in their lives. I think I've made a great deal of progress toward the first goal. Writing about what happened, what it did to me, what I did and said, how I felt and still feel has truly helped me. I've written things that I never shared with anyone before - not my family, not my closest friends, not even the counselor or pastor I was seeing. Sharing these things has lightened some of the burden I was carrying and has allowed me to start moving on with my life - not my life as it was before but a new life. I know I can benefit from continuing to write though because I'm not where I want to be yet. Hopefully I'll know when I get there!
Sometime in the near future I would like to focus more on the second goal. I've heard from people over the past few months who have read what I've written. Some of them have told me that something I said inspired them or gave them strength. Some said they were just relieved to find out someone else thought or felt the same as they did. Others have shared similar experiences they had in their life. I'm thankful for any little bit of good my story has done for someone else, and I would like to find a way to do more. I don't have a counseling degree, so I can't professionally counsel others (and at this point I don't have any plans of going back to school for another degree!). But I would like to speak to individuals or groups about alcoholism, suicide, or both. I want to continue to share my story in the hope that my experience will help someone else. The thought that something good can possibly come out of something so bad helps me keep moving forward.
The Lord says, "Do not remember the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I will do a new thing, now shall it spring forth; shall you not know it?" Isaiah 43:18-19 NKJV
I'm eager to encourage you in your faith, but I also want to be encouraged by yours. In this way, each of us will be a blessing to the other. Romans 1:12 NLT
Friday, November 25, 2011
The Head of the Table
One down (Thanksgiving), three more to go (Christmas, anniversary, New Year's). I actually did pretty well on the first one. We had our family get-together Wednesday instead of Thursdy. Trey, his girlfriend Candace, Emily, my mother, my dad, and my grandmother were all here. We had the traditional Thanksgiving meal (and way too much of it). My mother came early to help me cook. I had intended to let her help, but once I started cooking I just kept doing everything myself. I've found that I get through these days better if I stay busy. I only had two difficult moments, and thankfully they were brief. The first was when we stood in the kitchen to pray before eating. I remembered the Thanksgiving after Eddie came home from rehab. That day we went around the room and everyone told something they were thankful for. I remember Eddie saying simply "I'm thankful to be alive." My second moment came when we went in the dining room to sit down. I assumed Trey would sit at the head of the table, but when I walked in he was sitting on the side between Emily and Candace. The only empty chair was the one where Eddie always sat, so I sat there, even though I didn't want to. I realized that no matter how much I like to be in control and in charge of things, I don't want to be at the head of the table.
Since we'd had our Thanksgiving on Wednesday, we didn't get together again Thursday. I stayed home and decided to get started on my Christmas decorating. The first Christmas after Eddie died, I really didn't want to decorate at all. I would have liked to just skip the holiday altogether. I knew that wasn't possible though because of Trey and Emily, so I put up a tree, decorated the mantle, and hung wreaths on the doors. It was so much less than what I normally did, but it was the best I could manage. Last Christmas I did a little more but not much. This year I spent all day yesterday and all day today decorating. When I finally finished I was surprised at how much I had done. I hadn't started out to do much more than last year, but I kept seeing "just one more thing" I wanted to do. Before I realized it I had decorated almost as much as I used to. Hopefully this is a sign that Christmas will be a little better this year just as Thanksgiving was ... as long as I don't have to sit at the head of the table.
Be Glad by Helen Steiner Rice
Be glad that your life has been full and complete,
Be glad that you've tasted the bitter and sweet.
Be glad that you've walked in sunshine and rain,
Be glad that you've felt both pleasure and pain.
Be glad that you've had such a full, happy life,
Be glad for your joy as well as your strife.
Be glad that you've walked with courage each day,
Be glad you've had strength for each step of the way.
Be glad for the comfort that you've found in prayer.
Be glad for god's blessings, His love, and His care.
Since we'd had our Thanksgiving on Wednesday, we didn't get together again Thursday. I stayed home and decided to get started on my Christmas decorating. The first Christmas after Eddie died, I really didn't want to decorate at all. I would have liked to just skip the holiday altogether. I knew that wasn't possible though because of Trey and Emily, so I put up a tree, decorated the mantle, and hung wreaths on the doors. It was so much less than what I normally did, but it was the best I could manage. Last Christmas I did a little more but not much. This year I spent all day yesterday and all day today decorating. When I finally finished I was surprised at how much I had done. I hadn't started out to do much more than last year, but I kept seeing "just one more thing" I wanted to do. Before I realized it I had decorated almost as much as I used to. Hopefully this is a sign that Christmas will be a little better this year just as Thanksgiving was ... as long as I don't have to sit at the head of the table.
Be Glad by Helen Steiner Rice
Be glad that your life has been full and complete,
Be glad that you've tasted the bitter and sweet.
Be glad that you've walked in sunshine and rain,
Be glad that you've felt both pleasure and pain.
Be glad that you've had such a full, happy life,
Be glad for your joy as well as your strife.
Be glad that you've walked with courage each day,
Be glad you've had strength for each step of the way.
Be glad for the comfort that you've found in prayer.
Be glad for god's blessings, His love, and His care.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
The Meaning of Prayer
I still think about Eddie every day, but he's been on my mind much more than usual this past week. I know part of it is the time of year. My birthday was last month, Thanksgiving is this week, then there's Christmas, our anniversary, and New Year's. This is always a difficult stretch to get through. But it's also because three years ago this past week I spent five days and nights with Eddie at the rehab center in Statesboro. We came home the Sunday before Thanksgiving. I remember the time spent there like it was yesterday. I remember every class we attended, every meeting we went to, every speaker we heard, every movie we watched, every counseling session we had both separately and together. I learned things that week that I never knew before. I heard stories that I would have preferred not to hear. I told things to total strangers that I had never told my own family. I will remember that time for the rest of my life. It had a very strong, lasting, positive effect on me.
Every meeting in rehab began with the Serenity Prayer and ended with the Lord's Prayer. Of course I knew both of them and had said them many times in my life. But I realized that up until that week I had only been reciting the prayers. I had never really thought about the words and their meaning. I know now that no matter how many times I said them, there is one line of each prayer I was never able to follow - God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, and Thy will be done. In all the years of my marriage I never accepted that it wasn't up to me to change Eddie's behavior. I was convinced I could make Eddie want to stop drinking. I thought that if I kept at it I could eventually make a difference. It was all about my will and what I wanted to be done. Now I know there are some things we simply cannot change or maybe that just aren't meant to be changed.
I don't like what I've learned. I don't like the things I've had to accept. I would much rather be in control of every aspect of my life. My family and friends tease me about being "OCD" because of the extreme order I keep in my house and in my classroom. I know I'm excessive about some of it, but in some ways I think this is a result of what I've been through. I wasn't able to control what happened with Eddie, so I've looked for other things in my life that I can control. I know the next six weeks aren't going to be easy, but I'll try to accept them for what they are and make the best of the time I have with the rest of my family. Maybe I'm realizing the meaning of the last line of the Serenity Prayer - the wisdom to know the difference - between what I can and cannot change.
"In this manner, therefore pray: Our Father in heaven, hallowed be Your name ..."
The Model Prayer - Matthew 6:9-13
Every meeting in rehab began with the Serenity Prayer and ended with the Lord's Prayer. Of course I knew both of them and had said them many times in my life. But I realized that up until that week I had only been reciting the prayers. I had never really thought about the words and their meaning. I know now that no matter how many times I said them, there is one line of each prayer I was never able to follow - God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, and Thy will be done. In all the years of my marriage I never accepted that it wasn't up to me to change Eddie's behavior. I was convinced I could make Eddie want to stop drinking. I thought that if I kept at it I could eventually make a difference. It was all about my will and what I wanted to be done. Now I know there are some things we simply cannot change or maybe that just aren't meant to be changed.
I don't like what I've learned. I don't like the things I've had to accept. I would much rather be in control of every aspect of my life. My family and friends tease me about being "OCD" because of the extreme order I keep in my house and in my classroom. I know I'm excessive about some of it, but in some ways I think this is a result of what I've been through. I wasn't able to control what happened with Eddie, so I've looked for other things in my life that I can control. I know the next six weeks aren't going to be easy, but I'll try to accept them for what they are and make the best of the time I have with the rest of my family. Maybe I'm realizing the meaning of the last line of the Serenity Prayer - the wisdom to know the difference - between what I can and cannot change.
"In this manner, therefore pray: Our Father in heaven, hallowed be Your name ..."
The Model Prayer - Matthew 6:9-13
Sunday, October 30, 2011
But Where Does it Go?
I celebrated my 50th birthday this past week, and I have to say that it was one of the best birthdays I've ever had. My family and friends went out of their way to make it very special. I had two of my best friends from high school visit and spend the night with me. We talked about old times until 3:00 AM, and then picked up right where we left off when we got up the next day. It was so nice to talk about the past and relive the times when our lives were so much easier (too bad we didn't appreciate then just how easy it was). My family and some of my friends surprised me with a party the next night, and I was genuinely surprised - I had no idea they were planning anything. My class gave me a party at school along with gifts, flowers, and cards. In all I had three different birthday cakes - and no I didn't eat them all myself - I shared! I couldn't have asked for anything more, and it really made me realize and appreciate who and what I have in my life.
If anyone had asked me 25 years ago when I was just starting out as a wife, mother, and teacher where I would be at 50, I don't know how I would have answered. But I feel pretty sure I would have never predicted where I actually am now. I never thought I'd be a grandmother before I was 50. I wouldn't have predicted that at 50 I'd be a college student again. I certainly in my worst nightmare wouldn't have dreamed I'd be a widow at 50. But here I am celebrating 50 years and all of those are true. The grandmother part is wonderful. I wouldn't trade that role for anything. The student part, while not so great right now, will be worth it when I finish and have my specialist's degree. It's the widow part that I could definitely do without and would love to be able to change. Unfortunately that's not possible.
The question now is where do I go from here? I guess you could say I'm content with my life right now. I don't know if I would say that I'm necessarily happy, but I'm not sad either. I've just accepted the way things are. I stay very busy with work, classes, family, and friends. I really don't have time for anything else. But I won't be a teacher forever - I can actually retire in just under four years. I definitely won't be a college student forever - this is my last degree, and I'll be finished with it in less than a year. I'll always be a mother and a grandmother, but Trey has his own life now, and I know as Emily grows up she'll need her Nana less and less.
So what do I want for the rest of my life? Do I want a relationship sometime in the future? I really don't know. Sometimes I think yes, it would be nice to have companionship, someone to talk to and do things with. Sometimes I think no, I'm not sure it's worth the effort it takes to make a relationship work. A part of me still loves Eddie and always will. But his alcoholism and suicide had an effect on me that I'll never completely get over. In some ways the effect has been good - I'm stronger now than I ever was before. I'm a survivor, and I know I can make it on my own. On the negative side what Eddie put me through has caused me to build a wall around myself, both to keep me from getting too close to anyone and to prevent anyone from getting too close to me. I don't know what the future holds now anymore than I did 25 years ago. The one thing I do know though is that I don't intend to ever be hurt again the way I was when Eddie died.
A Birthday is a Gateway
by Helen Steiner Rice
A birthday is a gateway
Between old years and new,
Just an opening to the future
Where we get a wider view.
For it takes a lot of birthdays
To make us wise and kind
And to help us judge all people
With our heart and not our mind.
Every year brings new dimensions
That enable us to see
All things within a kinder light
And more perceptively.
So birthdays are the gateway
To what the future holds
And to greater understanding
As the story of life unfolds.
If anyone had asked me 25 years ago when I was just starting out as a wife, mother, and teacher where I would be at 50, I don't know how I would have answered. But I feel pretty sure I would have never predicted where I actually am now. I never thought I'd be a grandmother before I was 50. I wouldn't have predicted that at 50 I'd be a college student again. I certainly in my worst nightmare wouldn't have dreamed I'd be a widow at 50. But here I am celebrating 50 years and all of those are true. The grandmother part is wonderful. I wouldn't trade that role for anything. The student part, while not so great right now, will be worth it when I finish and have my specialist's degree. It's the widow part that I could definitely do without and would love to be able to change. Unfortunately that's not possible.
The question now is where do I go from here? I guess you could say I'm content with my life right now. I don't know if I would say that I'm necessarily happy, but I'm not sad either. I've just accepted the way things are. I stay very busy with work, classes, family, and friends. I really don't have time for anything else. But I won't be a teacher forever - I can actually retire in just under four years. I definitely won't be a college student forever - this is my last degree, and I'll be finished with it in less than a year. I'll always be a mother and a grandmother, but Trey has his own life now, and I know as Emily grows up she'll need her Nana less and less.
So what do I want for the rest of my life? Do I want a relationship sometime in the future? I really don't know. Sometimes I think yes, it would be nice to have companionship, someone to talk to and do things with. Sometimes I think no, I'm not sure it's worth the effort it takes to make a relationship work. A part of me still loves Eddie and always will. But his alcoholism and suicide had an effect on me that I'll never completely get over. In some ways the effect has been good - I'm stronger now than I ever was before. I'm a survivor, and I know I can make it on my own. On the negative side what Eddie put me through has caused me to build a wall around myself, both to keep me from getting too close to anyone and to prevent anyone from getting too close to me. I don't know what the future holds now anymore than I did 25 years ago. The one thing I do know though is that I don't intend to ever be hurt again the way I was when Eddie died.
A Birthday is a Gateway
by Helen Steiner Rice
A birthday is a gateway
Between old years and new,
Just an opening to the future
Where we get a wider view.
For it takes a lot of birthdays
To make us wise and kind
And to help us judge all people
With our heart and not our mind.
Every year brings new dimensions
That enable us to see
All things within a kinder light
And more perceptively.
So birthdays are the gateway
To what the future holds
And to greater understanding
As the story of life unfolds.
Monday, October 17, 2011
A Flood of Memories
I traveled to Trion, Georgia yesterday for my uncle's funeral. I made the trip alone because my father was already there, Trey is working in Gainesville, and my mother was getting ready to return to Atlanta today for her next chemo treatment. I don't really mind driving somewhere by myself. Sometimes I use the time to think about things, and other times I turn the radio up and try not to think about anything. I knew my uncle's service would be an emotional time, but I wasn't prepared for the memories that came flooding back during my trip. I was born in Trion and lived there and in Rome until I was almost eight years old. Both sets of my grandparents lived in that area while I was growing up. I spent many nights and weekends with them over the years. I remember playing "Mother May I" on the steps in front of the house, going to Lake Winnapasoka (a local amusement park), and playing with my Barbie dolls when I was with my father's parents. When I stayed with my mother's parents we made home-made ice cream, went to the lake, and attended church where my grandfather preached. I used to sit on the bench beside my grandmother in church while she played the piano. I hadn't thought about any of those things in years until yesterday.
At some point on the drive, I think it was somewhere between Bremen and Rome, I came to the top of a little rise in the road and for the first time could really see the north Georgia mountains covered with trees in different colors. It was then that all of the memories started. I remembered a place in the road between Rome and Trion called Taylor's Ridge that I was always scared to travel across because I thought the car would go over the side of the mountain! My parents have told me about one time in particular when it had snowed, and I pitched such a fit about crossing the ridge that they had to take the back roads (which added MANY miles to the trip) to take me to and from my grandparents' house. When I reached Taylor's Ridge yesterday I still felt a little flutter of nervousness as I went around it. I think I actually held my breath until it was behind me. As I drove through Rome I looked for the pond where I used to go to feed the ducks when I was little, but I couldn't find it. When I went through Summerville I thought about the times I used to go to school with my grandmother who was a teacher. I slowed down but didn't stop as I passed the church in Pennville where my grandfather preached.
The hardest part was when I got to the cemetery in Trion. I arrived early so I had a little time there before other people came. When I reached the Magnolia tree under which my uncle was going to be buried I could see the graves of my cousin Hugh who died in 1970, my grandfather who died in 1982, my grandmother who died in 1983 (the day before my birthday), as well as the spot that had been prepared for Kenneth. As I stood there looking at so many family members together I wondered for the first time if I had made a mistake in not allowing Eddie to be buried at the cemetery in Fleming where his family plots are. I thought I was doing the right thing at the time, but now I'm not so sure.
After the service and a get-together at a cousin's house, I started the trip back home. I made one stop on my way at a small park just outside of Summerville called Veteran's Memorial Park. At the entrance there is a monument similar to the Vietnam Memorial Wall with the names of veterans from the Trion and Summerville area. My grandfather on my father's side was a war veteran, and I knew his name was somewhere on the wall. I searched the wall until I located his name. I stood there looking at it for a long time then said a final good-bye and left. I didn't want to think on the ride back home so I put in my Zac Brown and Kid Rock cds and turned them up as loud as I could. As I pulled into the driveway of my house and turned off the car, I thought about how lonely, empty, and quiet it would be when I went inside. I realized this was what it was going to be like for my aunt Brenda now, too, and my heart ached for her. I've always heard the saying "silence is golden" - sometimes this is true - but not always.
Memory Rendezvous by Helen Steiner Rice
Memory builds a little pathway
that goes winding through my heart.
It's a lovely, quiet, gentle trail
from other things apart.
I only meet, when traveling there,
the folks I like the best,
For this road I call remembrance
is hidden from the rest.
But I hope I'll always find you
in my memory rendezvous,
For I keep this little secret place
to meet with folks like you.
At some point on the drive, I think it was somewhere between Bremen and Rome, I came to the top of a little rise in the road and for the first time could really see the north Georgia mountains covered with trees in different colors. It was then that all of the memories started. I remembered a place in the road between Rome and Trion called Taylor's Ridge that I was always scared to travel across because I thought the car would go over the side of the mountain! My parents have told me about one time in particular when it had snowed, and I pitched such a fit about crossing the ridge that they had to take the back roads (which added MANY miles to the trip) to take me to and from my grandparents' house. When I reached Taylor's Ridge yesterday I still felt a little flutter of nervousness as I went around it. I think I actually held my breath until it was behind me. As I drove through Rome I looked for the pond where I used to go to feed the ducks when I was little, but I couldn't find it. When I went through Summerville I thought about the times I used to go to school with my grandmother who was a teacher. I slowed down but didn't stop as I passed the church in Pennville where my grandfather preached.
The hardest part was when I got to the cemetery in Trion. I arrived early so I had a little time there before other people came. When I reached the Magnolia tree under which my uncle was going to be buried I could see the graves of my cousin Hugh who died in 1970, my grandfather who died in 1982, my grandmother who died in 1983 (the day before my birthday), as well as the spot that had been prepared for Kenneth. As I stood there looking at so many family members together I wondered for the first time if I had made a mistake in not allowing Eddie to be buried at the cemetery in Fleming where his family plots are. I thought I was doing the right thing at the time, but now I'm not so sure.
After the service and a get-together at a cousin's house, I started the trip back home. I made one stop on my way at a small park just outside of Summerville called Veteran's Memorial Park. At the entrance there is a monument similar to the Vietnam Memorial Wall with the names of veterans from the Trion and Summerville area. My grandfather on my father's side was a war veteran, and I knew his name was somewhere on the wall. I searched the wall until I located his name. I stood there looking at it for a long time then said a final good-bye and left. I didn't want to think on the ride back home so I put in my Zac Brown and Kid Rock cds and turned them up as loud as I could. As I pulled into the driveway of my house and turned off the car, I thought about how lonely, empty, and quiet it would be when I went inside. I realized this was what it was going to be like for my aunt Brenda now, too, and my heart ached for her. I've always heard the saying "silence is golden" - sometimes this is true - but not always.
Memory Rendezvous by Helen Steiner Rice
Memory builds a little pathway
that goes winding through my heart.
It's a lovely, quiet, gentle trail
from other things apart.
I only meet, when traveling there,
the folks I like the best,
For this road I call remembrance
is hidden from the rest.
But I hope I'll always find you
in my memory rendezvous,
For I keep this little secret place
to meet with folks like you.
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