This past year, I have witnessed the passing of four dear people, parents, grandparents and some great grandparents. To say the least, this has been challenging, sorrowful and more importantly a changing of the guard.
Recently I experienced a road trip like no other, as four of us women traveled to bury one of our own. Our mission was to immerse ourselves in memories spanning a woman's 87 year journey through life as we cleaned the house that held so many memories of our childhood.
As we rummaged through each room, torn with what to keep and what to toss, we found there was more to Phyllis than "just a mom". Friends came in and out of the house one day with stories of her life B.C. (before children) and A.C. (after children). With pictures of her posing attractively on the California beaches, at her teller job, dating, they had us laughing at her antics and crying out for memories we never had of her.
We kept trinkets and photos that were dear and watched as the trash company hauled away 8 large trash cans of "stuff". We locked the door to an empty house, realizing it was the last time we would share a meal, laughter and tears in the house that was home for 54 years.
As I sift through the pieces of her unfinished memoirs I find there are writing about a woman known only to me as my "other mother". I am grateful for the road trip. It was a journey of sisters, friends and companions. We find ourselves as matriarchs standing guard over legacies that cement families and generations. May we be up to the task and do it with the same grace and dignity as our dear Phyllis.
