Monday, May 14, 2007

Mother's Day Ride

The thing that brings the most enjoyment to my mom is a ride by the farm where she grew up. This is the place where she often regresses to when she asks when I am going to take her home. Yesterday was a stunning day here. In the 80's with low humidity and sunny without a cloud in the sky.

The ride route we take is similar to the shape of a lollipop. We go about 20 miles up the road towards Vermont, then take a left and drive out through the country to the farm where she tells me all of her adventures as a little girl and points out where everything used to be: the cow barn was there, we had a pond there that had snapping turtles, that building there used to be the chicken coop. Everthing is gone except the house and the chicken coop turned into a garage.

Then we press onward, winding through the rolling hills and pastures to the village that is home to the cemeteries where my father and grandparents are buried. My mother will be layed to rest next to my father and I assume I will end up there, too. Kinda creepy yet comforting at the same time. Visiting the cemeteries has always been a part of our family tradition. Growing up we went to the cemetery to visit my paternal grandfather every holiday and sometimes in between. When I would visit from California I always went there even though I never knew him since he died in the 1940's.

First stop is my father who died in 1992. I was happy to see that the daffodils and hyacinths that I planted around my father's head stone back in the fall had come up and done well. I also placed plants I had potted up next to the stone. A geranium, petunia, ivy, and a spike. This is in direct sun so they all do pretty well. [BTW, I put them in cheap $3 plastic pots so I don't have to worry about them being stolen. If someone takes them, no big deal. I think they'd be more tempting to take if they were in better containers.]

About 50 yards to the west of my father is the grave of painter Grandma Moses and about 100 yards to the north are my maternal grandparents. Pop died in 1987 and Grandma in 1993. Of all the people in my life, I try to be most like her. We stopped by their stone and I placed a similar pot of plants with them. Then it was on to the Catholic cemetery down the road a bit where my paternal grandparents are buried. My grandmother died in 1987 as well. A set of plants for them, too.

Coming out, mother dear asked if we had been to her parent's stone. I explained that we had just been there and asked if she remembered that I put the flowers there, etc. Nope. Nothing. And I can see it makes her sad that she can't remember. So back we went and I whizzed up the hill and showed her the plants we had just put in place. That seemed to settle her down.

I asked if she was thirsty and she said "yes." A quick stop at a McDonald's drive through for some french fries and a drink to hold us over until dinner. Then we close the loop of the lollipop and headed home.

It was a good day.

1 comment:

proudprogressive said...

You are unbelievably sweet to take her right back to see the plants. And so tuned in to be able to see her sadness in her vague knowledge that something is not right with her. That essay warmed my heart.