Tonight, before heading to bed, is a good time to reflect upon my first-ever solo trip to Mama's gravesite I've mentioned a few times, on her 66th birthday.
Any other time I had gone there since the funeral, my kids were with me (normally it was a Saturday morning when Mom was at work). I, this time, really wanted to go myself, experience it myself, and have time alone.
So, I left the house just after 630am, cut the back way to just west of Ashland, and headed up 54/33 for Louisa. As poetic justice would have it, just as I passed Cuckoo (where Mama lived), I got behind, you guessed it, a Louisa County school bus. Mama drove a bus in Louisa for the better part of 30 years. Needless to say I did not mind following it. When it did turn off 33, it was onto 605, a road that was part of Mama's route for years. Thus commenced the first round of tears. The irony was overwhelming, and appreciated.
It was "after" sunrise upon my arrival at graveside, and I got out and walked to the site. Thus commenced the second round of tears, as Mama and I held a conversation, did what I would do when she was here on Earth, which was, tell her 'bout the battles I was facing and how life had been, was, and maybe would be. I distinctly remember rubbing the tombstone with my thumb. On the top, the rock was so rough, with tiny peaks and valleys, even positions of sharpness. Then, on the front, protected by a sheet of material, it was as smooth as silk. It reminded me of the ups and downs of our 35 year mother-son relationship, and it reminds me now of the ups and downs of life circa late 2004; questions unanswered, struggles continuing, victories enjoyed, and even some "Why nows?", as opposed to the more popular "Why?".
It was funny, actually; two workers were pulling out the tractors for a morning of lawn work, and I think they stopped when they saw me there, out of respect. So, about that time, I figured I'd better be going, so they could work, and I could head back to Richmond and the work ahead of me that day. I left a drawing Rachel made of two of her favorite dogs; Clifford and Blue, inside a birthday wreath previously placed there.
And that was it.....
Of course, a trip that far northwest had to be complimented by a swing through the old homestead, so we go "the back way" out of Mineral, through Fredericks Hall, Buckner and Bumpass (it's funny, some parts of that trip look different now, while other parts look as if time has stood still from 27 years ago, when I took that road to spend weekends with Mama), and eventually into good ol' Beaverdam. I passed the old Francisco store feeling sympathy for his family, knowing Mr. Francisco had just passed away recently. I passed the old parsonage, noticing that the new owners had indeed begun working on repairing the place, and had even placed a big shed around about where home plate used to be in the back yard.
They also had a "Bush-Cheney '04" sign in the front yard, so now you know I'm their fans! :)
Eventually we wound our way back into Ashland, and the traditional back way (Route One? Nah!!!) to today's home, Glen Allen. Switch cars, and me and the Cougar head off to work. Lots done on that day, and it was before 10am!
That will most likely be an annual pilgrimage for as long as I can manage it. Mother's Day is hard, because there are presently living mothers to celebrate and it's on a Sunday (kind of a busy day for me!). So, I look to October 28th and December 28th now in a way I never did until 2002. And on those days, until I pass, I will specially remember the woman who did more to shape me into who I am today than anyone else by far and away.....Mama.
And trust me, no day goes by without her on my mind, and, I feel, in my presence. And that's a good thing.....
This week upcoming holds special significance for me looking back on dates in my personal history, etc, as I am wont to do. I can't remember a name worth two cents, but there's a good chance I could tell you what I was doing, say, 20 years ago today. That would have been December 5, 1984, a Wednesday, the final dress rehearsal for the fall production of my senior year, Thornton Wilder's "Our Town". I'll look back on some here, some others privately, wonder where in the world the time has gone, wonder how those events helped make me who I am today, and maybe even what I can be doing now, so, with God's blessings, 20 years from now, I can look back on December 5, 2004 with good memories, too....
....except for the fact that I REALLY NEED to learn my lines for our church Christmas play. My brain completely shut down during practice tonight; it was embarrassing. :(
Thanks for listening, exit to your left, and come back soon for more blogging from Glen Allen, Va. Night! :)
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