Anniversary

Yesterday was the 64th anniversary of the day my parents got married.

Three years ago on their anniversary, Chuck and I picked up meals from a local restaurant and ice cream from our favorite ice cream spot to take to their house. Dad had been having trouble eating and it was more comfortable to eat at their home than at a public space. There was more than one arrangement of flowers in the house, sent from my siblings to honor the day.

We enjoyed our meal that night. Dad didn’t eat a lot, but he really liked the ice cream. He greeted us by name, which was unusual for him by that time. We talked about what was happening in our lives, and asked for memories of their wedding. We had no inkling that Dad would be gone in eight days.

Last night Mom and I went out for supper. We had burgers, fries, and onion rings at a new burger joint just a couple of blocks from her home. While we ate, another patron walked past our table and said hi to mom, using her name. I didn’t know him, and with her spotty memory, she didn’t either. But that is beside the point.

Mom is a quiet person. She always said that Dad was the outgoing one and she was the homebody. But nearly every time we go somewhere together, people come and greet her by name. Often she knows them, and enjoys a conversation.

Even when she is not with me, as I move through our community many people ask about her and tell me how much they have appreciated her role in their lives. She may have been quieter than Dad, but she is and was warm and caring.

She may not have been a social butterfly. She was definitely a worker bee. If she saw a need she found a way to meet it. The best story of that was when the spouse of a coworker of hers was diagnosed with cancer. Mom began bringing weekly meals for their family throughout the illness, and then continued for a long time after this young mother passed away. I remember visiting with her about finding new and interesting recipes, so that she would have some variety and not always bring the same old thing.

Last night, as we ate together, she wanted to talk about what is going on in my life and the lives of my children. Several times she bemoaned the fact that I have a supportive role with her now, instead of the other way around. She worries that I carry too much load.

She has a hard time remembering how much she has lightened my load over the course of my life.

At any rate, it was a brief, but very pleasant meal together. I don’t take those for granted anymore.