A Melancholy Day

Death is so cliche'. The grief, the pain, the loss. The desire to ask the one we've lost one more question.

There is always a family member who remembers everything. That person was my mother. She could tell you every detail about her's and daddy's first date-seeing Ben Hur at the movie. She remembered the chaos surrounding that night when, upon daddy's arrival for this blind date, her temporary front tooth (due to a softball accident) fell down the drain. Her daddy, my paw paw, had to unhook the elbow joint to get the tooth so mother could meet her young suitor with a smile! She could tell you about the dime my nana put in her hand in case she needed to call home. She could tell you how handsome my daddy looked in the gray wool vest he wore that night. I still have that vest. I could call Mother and ask her any question and she could answer just about anything off the top of her head.

I have so many of those-"I need to call Mother and ask her that-" days. I just catch my breath when I remember she's not here to answer. I call Daddy and sometimes he can answer, but mostly he agrees-"well your mama would know that right off. "

Today I couldn't remember what she used to call a gardenia. It was a southern slang word. It brought me to tears. Yesterday, I couldn't remember the housekeeper's name who locked me in the bathroom when I was three. Tomorrow it will be something else.

Then, I remembered- it doesn't matter what I didn't find out from my mother. What matters are all the things I did learn. I'm glad I listened.