Saturday, July 20, 2013

July 21, 2012

As I was in the shower after a long shift at the hospital, it hit me what a year ago today looked like.

I ran into Party City to gather a large bouquet of balloons. Yellow for the grandsons and pink for the granddaughters. I asked them to blow one up not quite as big as the others and make it pink.
I pushed the balloons in the back of the mini-van where Dustin and the kids were waiting.

As we approached the cemetery, reality was setting in. This year there would be no large meal followed by an ice-cream cake. This year we wouldn't take pictures of the twins dressed alike even though they didn't plan it.. This year mom wouldn't scream in joy at every once of attention given to her in the form of gifts. This year we didn't celebrate July as her birth "month".

As we pulled up the grave site, mom's friends and family waited next to where her soon-to-be headstone would eventually sit. It had only been 9 weeks since her death. This is not enough time to make a headstone. I now know too many details about timing of funerals and visitations and cemetery etiquette. (Do you know they have regular potlucks at some cemeteries?)

Dustin parked the car. The kids, dressed in yellow,mom's favorite color, jumped out of the car running in joy. Their young minds too innocent to grasp more than that we were going to a mere birthday party.

Dad said a few words. I felt a few words too many and scolded him for it...in front of everyone. I regretted it immediately. How could I ever put down my dad in any manner, especially since mom had told us on her death bed to respect and love him as she had. How could I belittled his words when he has used his tongue and actions for nothing but love and respect of his beloved soul-mate. I was proud of my dad standing there. I am so proud of my dad standing now. I am in awe of his strength and wisdom through what is undoubtedly been the worst year of his life.

Dad finished his words. We prayed. And I told everyone what the balloons represented. One yellow balloon for each grandson and one pink for each granddaughter. Mom's sisters quickly caught on to the fact their was a baby pink balloon. We were having a baby girl. I told them all our name we had chosen:
Claudette
 
Tears filled the eyes of my mom's sweet sisters. Her named would live on. Hope filled our sad souls. But her name didn't live on. 
 
As July 21, 2013 approaches I realize that while "Claudette the name" is set in stone on not one but two graves my they are not dead, but ALIVE. Celebrating perhaps not with food and or earthly family, but mom is HOME and be assured she is CELEBRATING, so tomorrow we shall celebrate too.
 
 
 Claudie, give grandma a big kiss from all of us celebrating below!
 
Happy 64th mom! 
 
  

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