Good-Byes and Promises

I went to two funerals last month. My aunt died at the end of April and two weeks later, to the day, my uncle's wife died at the young age of 52. For the second time in two weeks I drove the 90 miles to Tennessee.

Many of my relatives on my father's side still live among the rolling hills of middle Tennessee, where the scenery is picture postcard pretty. I wanted to stop and take pictures along the country roads, but we were in a time crunch. Oddly, I noticed many small buildings overgrown with weeds and grass, when I realized that these little out buildings were former outhouses.

The relatives came from nearby and  from far away. Alabama. Georgia. Virginia.
There was the young cousin from Savannah. Instantly I recognized her, even though we haven't seen each other in 15 years. Sunny (not her real name) is grown now, tall like her father, and has the honey-colored hair of her mother. She also inherited her father's cleft chin.  

Another distant cousin, two years older than me, grins at me, remembering when we were 10 and 12. I was the oldest in my family and he, the youngest. I tell him that he looks like Jimmy Carter, only more handsome. His wife, a pretty 50ish woman,  shares her email address and Facebook page and we promise to keep in touch.

"Jimmy" has a twin sister and she squeezes me in a real southern hug. She is flamboyant, dressed in bright colors, and extroverted. Her Mama, my great-aunt, 80ish, has perfectly coifed silver hair, and soft hands, holds my hands and doesn't let go. She lost her husband six years ago and is in the early stages of Dementia.

My uncle is shaken at the sudden death of his wife. He is lost without her. He has aged, and is thin and frail, and doesn't look like the Elvis look-alike of his youth. The girls were crazy about him and he would talk for hours on the black rotary dial telephone, before call waiting and message machines. His only child is a pretty young woman in her twenties and looks like her father when he was younger.

Then there is Jewel, who just lost her mother two weeks before. She has long, black hair and could pass as a Cherokee Indian. Her daughter, another beauty, graduated from high school this week.

Cousin Rusty stands quietly to the side. He is 50 and doesn't talk much. He is the sole survivor in his family. Thank God for his wife of 30 years. He is proud of his son, who recently graduated from college.

Another cousin, Billy, will perform the funeral. He is a preacher and an evangelist. His older brother has fought the devil his entire life, but Billy turned to God.

My sister and I catch up with everyone, trying to remember names and faces. We listen to stories and share some of our own. We talk nostalgically about long-ago family reunions and childhood memories. We hope to plan a reunion, under better circumstances, we tell each other.

It is night before we leave. One of our cousins and her family take us out to eat before we go. We linger, talking in the parking lot under the street lights. Finally, we say our good-byes. And promise to keep in touch.

I think of all the good-byes I've said through the years, and promises to keep in touch.

And my uncle's wife - she was a military veteran. She served in the Army when she was a young woman and returned home to these Tennessee hills at the end of her tour of duty.

Day is done, gone the sun
From the lakes, from the hills, from the skies
All is well, safely rest;
God is nigh.

(Taps)

This Memorial Day may we remember all of men and women who gave their lives for our country. God bless them all.

Blessings,

Anita

In Remembrance

My daughters and I were talking this past week about how we miss the "old days," when their father, their grandfather and their uncle were still alive. I loved to listen to them joke around and talk about the good old days and tell tales of their youth. My father-in-law was really special to me. We had many similar interests and the same taste in books. He would often send me a package of books when he was finished reading them. He also loved cryptoquotes, another favorite of mine, and kept index cards from the daily cryptoquote in the newspaper. He was a real family man and loved nothing more than to spend time with his children and grandchildren. My father-in-law was a veteran, but never made it overseas. While his unit was on their way to Europe during World War II he was hospitalized for several months for Tuberculosis, a lung disease that claimed the lives of several of his siblings. Out of nine children, he and a younger brother were the only ones to live past the age of 30. When he recovered he was discharged from the Army and went to college on the GI Bill, becoming a teacher. Not bad for a man with a wife and four young children.

While his father did not make a career out of the military, my late husband did, serving 20 years in the Army. Before he was 30 years old he had already been stationed in Vietnam, Panama, Korea, Germany, and Alaska, and these were not counting the stateside tours. Don was  proud of his 101st Airborne badge and the bronze star that he received for being wounded in action.  He was proud to serve in the Army and proud to wear the uniform. My husband was a spontaneous type of person and with the Internet, was able to contact some former soldiers of the 101st Airborne. He called one veteran late one night, against my cautious, "It's 11 o'clock at night!" He and the other Vietnam vet spoke for over an hour on the phone. Another soldier that he had contacted replied with this email, "Welcome Home, Brother."

I like to think that heaven has a flag-waving welcoming committee for all those who served, and that they are all holding signs that say, "Welcome Home, Brother."