Happy Birthday

Starting this morning with some tears, one of those times when I just feel sad and I can't put my finger on the source of the sadness.


 

Then I remembered.  Tomorrow is Agnes' birthday.  She would have been 86 years old.

I know I have written about her several times in my blog.  But today is just a little different.

She was never one to WANT to celebrate her birthday.  She didn't want a fuss, especially in the last few years.  We would always try to do something special for her anyway, of course, but sometimes in February, cold weather, snow, ice---all of those might get in the way of original plans to get together or go out for dinner. She was more of a stay at home and order broasted chicken and potatoes or pizza from the Pizza King in Winamac.

At some point during the day Becky from Country Color would make a delivery of flowers from Mike.  She always fussed about those.  She didn't know why he would send her flowers that would not last very long, stating that he should save his money.  But she always enjoyed them and they never disappeared from the top of the dishwasher until the last petal was dried up.

Since November 10, I have missed my mother-in-law more than I thought possible.  Well, not really.  I knew I would miss her, but until the experience it is hard to know the depth of the feelings that one will experience.

Each Sunday, especially when we leave church, the Escape no longer head to the Family Express to pick up a paper.  We don't call to check with Mom and Dad to see if they need a gallon of milk or anything else that we can pick up before we make the stop at their house. I always enjoyed the after church visits with them, something we have done since the girls were little and we were going home after services at St. Marks.  Leo would always ask about the number of people at church ("Large crowd today?") or what the message was ("Did the preacher have a good sermon?")  and Agnes would always state "I hope you prayed for me!" as she gave a little laugh.  Gary always replied, "I always do, Ma" and she would smile.  Before they became more sedentary, they would ask us to join them for lunch or to share what was left from breakfast.  Always wanting to be sure we didn't go away hungry!  Those times sitting about the table, just chatting are special memories.

The other day I made a peach pie.  Gary was looking in the cabinets and found a couple of cans of peach pie filling. A box of Pillsbury pie crusts was in the fridge, so I made a peach pie.  Of course as I often do, I was thinking that a pie was just too much for us to eat - I am trying to watch my food intake and Gary needed blood work this week--so we could just take half of it to Gary's folks and they would enjoy the rest of it.  Stop.  No, we couldn't take it there. I think of those things quite often - sharing dishes, taking them part of a casserole, planning a meal with them in mind too. Then every month or so Gary would bring home the empty pans and dishes, with a message from his dad that I could just fill them up again.  He wouldn't mind.  I miss that.

Most of all this morning I am thinking about how much I miss my mother.  She never treated me like her daughter-in-law, but like her daughter.  I miss her telling me each time I left that she loved me.  I miss hearing her laughter with the girls.  I miss her interaction with Landon.  And Tessa. And Cooper. And Owen.   I miss how much they all made her smile and how her face would light up when they came into the living room.

I can't walk into the empty house now without missing her so much that it hurts.  I miss the smells of what she always had cooking on the stove.  I used to tell her that the reason I gained so much weight early in our marriage was because of all of the meals she made me eat!  I miss the sounds of the television, because the tv was ALWAYS on in the house, and her interactions with the people on the screen.  She always had an opinion about politics or comments about her favorite sports teams or NASCAR drivers.  I miss her going from room to room, folding laundry, carrying something from one room to another, putting away the towels.  I miss her telling me about what was happening uptown when she worked at the office.  I miss her love for my daughters and her care for them each day so I could teach.  Most of all I miss her always being THERE.  She didn't drive so even if Gary and Leo were in the field or other things were going on, she was always there.  Now the house is so empty.  She just isn't there, and I miss her.

A few weeks ago I stopped at the house by myself.  I was looking for an iron, to take to Megan for her make it space in the library.  I couldn't find it.  It was the first time I had been there all alone.  It was just too quiet.  But as I wandered from room to room, trying to think of where she might have put that iron, I noticed little things.  The pictures on the fridge.  The duct tape  that was everywhere that needed a patch of some sort.  I remember how happy she was with the wallpaper border in the bathroom with those little clawfoot bathtubs on them that matched the ceramic soap dish that Ann had made. I remember her painting the kitchen and putting up the fake tile backsplash, when she purchased the new curtains for the windows.  I remember how she painted the porch to make it look better and how the rain would always drip in to ruin the paint on the walls.  She made do, she patched, she knew what she liked, and she was happy in her house.  She could find everything and anything either upstairs or in the 'office' off the front room.  As I looked for that iron, which I never did find, I found tears streaming down my cheeks.  I missed her.  So much.  I had to leave.  I couldn't stay there anymore.  I missed her too much.

Tomorrow is her birthday. She would be 86.  Now Megan, Mike, and I will carry on.  We share the same last number on our ages.  She was always the first one to turn the new number.  Now Megan will have that distinction when she is 36 on April 8.

I miss you, Mom.  I love you more than you even knew--or maybe you did.  I am so thankful that you accepted me as your daughter 41 years ago, from the moment I first visited your house after the 4-H club livestock tour that hot July evening.  Even though you had no idea that Gary and I would get together---or maybe you did!  I am so thankful that you raised your son to be a wonderful husband, father, and grandfather, and an honest, loyal man.  I am so thankful that you were there to care for Megan and Hilary so that I could continue to teach and that you loved them. I am so thankful that your eyes brightened each and every time the four kids came to visit.  I am so thankful that you were my mother for those 41 years and that your influence still abides within me.

Happy Birthday in Heaven, Mom.  I love you.