Memorial Day is to honor and remember

I wrote this blog several years ago, but I think it bears reposting each year around this time. 

How many times this weekend did you hear, or say, Happy Memorial Day? 

Memorial Day was designated in 1868 by General John Logan as a day to honor soldiers killed in battle. It was originally called Decoration Day, as 5000 volunteers decorated the graves of the 20,000 Union and Confederate soldiers buried at Arlington.  The day was meant for the "purpose of strewing with flowers, or otherwise decorating the graves of comrades who died in defense of their country," according to General Logan, the national commander of the Grand Army of the Republic.  

Simply put, it's a day to remember the fallen -- those who gave the ultimate sacrifice in service to our country. 

It wasn't intended to be a happy day, rather a day to honor and remember, and a day to reflect on the heroism of those who served and died for our country. When and how did "Happy Memorial Day" become the accepted sentiment? It is spoken by many throughout Memorial Day weekend, and when you stop to think, it makes no sense whatsoever. Would you ever say Happy Pearl Harbor Day, or Happy September 11, or Happy Anniversary on the anniversary of a loved-one's death?  It would seem insensitive and inappropriate to give such a greeting.  It's no different with Memorial Day.

The meaning of Memorial Day has been lost in car sales, barbeques, and Cape house openings. No one discourages a celebration of the weekend that also signifies the unofficial start to summer, but just take some time to acknowledge its meaning -- attend a parade that honors our fallen, take your children to a local memorial and explain why the names are engraved on that wall, let them help plant flags on a veteran's grave. Teach them to respect the sacrifice the service members made as they bravely faced the enemy in defense of our country.

Memorial Day is also often confused with Veterans Day, and many will use it as a time to say thank you to Veterans and active duty/reservists. Veterans Day, Nov. 11, is the day designated for thanking a vet.  Reserve Memorial Day for remembering the fallen -- "Memorial" does suggest a remembrance of someone no longer here.

The Flag Garden on the Boston Common is a beautiful and poignant reminder of the real meaning of Memorial Day. The idea came from a story told about the impact 3000 flags had on my daughter, a young college student away from home for her first time on the anniversary of 9/11, the day that took her father from her.  From there, the germ of an idea was born, and the first annual Massachusetts Military Heroes Fund garden of 20,000 flags (dating back to the Civil War) quickly grew.

 Now more than 37,000 flags cascade down from the Sailors and Soldiers Memorial, each flag representing a Massachusetts service member who died in service to our country or as a result of service since the Revolutionary War.  37,369 this year.  It's a big number, and one that is hard to comprehend, even as you gaze out on the vast garden of flags.  They seem to wave in unison as the breeze catches them.   Placed in the front of the garden by family members and fellow military, 397 of them represent the sisters, brothers, sons and daughters, wives and husbands, partners, mothers and fathers, friends and other relatives who died in service or as a result of service since 9/11. They include those who died from the invisible wounds of war and those who died in training accidents.

 It's difficult to look at the flags without feeling a connection; without seeing a tear from a child's eye who is missing his or her daddy; without feeling the pride of a father as he talks about his hero daughter; without hearing the pain in the laughter of siblings remembering the last time they were together before the uniformed

military personnel showed up at their door with news of their loved one's passing. Each flag stands for a life -- for a family in mourning.  

A discussion of how best to honor the fallen heroes of the Massachusetts Military Heroes Fund Families on Memorial Day became a Garden of Flags that has now become a part of Boston's tribute to Massachusetts heroes for the last 14 years. Thousands visit the garden each day, taking pictures, marveling at the bittersweet beauty, and shaking their heads at the numbers.  Thousands stop for at least a moment to realize there is a real meaning behind memorial Day -- to remember a life; to honor a family who feels the loss in their lives every day. 

So instead of saying Happy Memorial Day, encourage gratitude and respect for the sacrifices made. Honor and Remember the fallen on Memorial Day.  

Exploring our roots

At almost 63 years old, I'm very aware of how fortunate I am to have had my mom for 62 years. But this is my first mothers' day without her since she died on October 6, 2022, on my wedding anniversary, just a month shy of turning 101, and I miss her. 

Dementia took her from us the last 5+ years, causing her to not remember that she was mom to 12 children, and not recognizing us when she saw us. Her reaction was always the same when we told her she had 12 kids -- she'd look surprised, laugh, and say "I did? That's a lot of kids!" 

But even with her mind gone, we still had her.  Although phone calls were difficult and without substance because of the dementia, I'd call her and tell her about my children and their children, knowing it would make little sense to her. But when my kids got engaged, then married and had their children, I always wanted to call her first with the wonderful news. She'd always say how she couldn't believe I had adult children who have children of their own. If she did remember me at all, she remembered me as her 10-year-old little girl and youngest child. She'd tell me she wished she could get on a bus or a plane and visit, and I told her I wished that, too. Our phone calls always ended with "I love you." I knew she meant it, even though as far as she knew, she was saying it to a stranger. Or maybe not. Maybe deep within her mind, she knew more than her mind could relay in words.

This Mothers' Day is the first time I haven't bought flowers or candy or perused the aisles of Macy's looking for just the right thing for her -- something that would make her smile and feel extra loved. It's the first time I haven't called her for a brief conversation and to say "I love you, mom," and to hear it back.  Instead I spent the day with 6 of my 11 siblings in the country where my mom was born and raised. We traveled to Barbados to pay tribute to our mom. The morning started at breakfast with a mimosa toast to Mom, and a little gift of "momisms" I presented to my siblings -- a lace hankie, jordan almonds, Whitman Sampler candy, English Breakfast tea and Walkers shortbread cookies .  After breakfast we met with 2 of her Barbadian (Bajan) cousins, George (and his wife Susan) and his older sister Frances, who I've been in touch with over the years and met twice in the last 40 years. Frances and  George's grandmother and our grandmother were sisters, making us 2nd cousins (or first cousins, once removed). We exchanged information about my mom's late brother, father and mother, and extended family, and George and Frances confirmed some of the stories our mom often told of her upbringing in Barbados on a sugar plantation. I found it heartwarming to hear that Frances noticed a resemblance in us to our mom's extended family. 

This week we will take a private tour of Barbados, visiting some of the places that played a role in our mom's history. We'll visit the cemetery where our grandmother and 2 of her sisters are buried; we'll go to the grounds of our mom's school, then called Codrington School for Girls, and now Codrington School, International School of Barbados (where our cousin's grandaughter goes to school), St. John's Church, and Wilson Hill, where our mom's house was. We'll also visit the Crane Hotel where our mom met our dad at a USO Dance in 1943 and where he asked her to marry him 10 minutes after meeting her. From the balcony of the Crane Hotel that overlooks Barbados' East Coast of the Caribbean, we'll toss flowers into the sea in tribute to our mom. She loved Bougainvillea, a beautiful vine that bears stunning purple flowers and is native to Barbados. One Mothers' Day in Yuma, where we grew up, we bought her a vine that my father planted in the backyard outside my bedroom window. I plan to make a small wreath of Bougainvillea flowers and toss that off the balcony.  

This is my 3rd trip to Barbados and while the last 2 were meaningful and wonderful, this is perhaps the most noteworthy trip I've ever taken. I've traced my mom's history here before, once 38 years ago with Jeff on our first anniversary, and then just 5 years ago with my kids, showing them their roots. But this time is different -- with my siblings we are exploring our history, and giving our mom the send-off that she wanted. Throughout the day we thought about how much our mom would've loved what we're doing. We know she's with us, as evidenced by the penny my sister found on the sidewalk and the near-perfect heart-shaped coral I found on the beach. 

When we leave here, I think we'll all feel the Bajan in us, and a piece of us will stay in Barbados. Thanks for guiding us to your beautiful homeland, Mom. Rest easy, and know we'll continue to love you always. Happy Mothers' Day. 

 

 The Power of Hope

When someone grieves the passing a loved one, it’s natural to seek out ways to connect with that person, or to find ways to ease the pain, if only for a moment. Since losing Jeff 21 years ago in the worst terrorist attack in our nation’s history, I’ve kept a journal. In the journal I write letters to Jeff. These letters are the way I’ve connected with him in my heart. Entries are far less frequent these days, but every once in a while I have a one-sided conversation with him through the written word. Recently I’ve added a few more entries, telling him about our 2 daughters’ marriages within 4 months of each other, and our new grand babies, one born 2 years ago and 2 born this summer just 8 days apart.

Meaghan gave me one of those journals. On each page of the journal is a quote about hope, and she wrote a beautiful message inside that of course made me cry. Her words inspired me to write about Hope.

I define hope as a look toward a positive outcome that we create in our mind. Sometimes it comes true; sometimes not. But without it, there would be little meaning in our lives and even the smallest obstacles would seem unmanageable.  There would be no reason to take the next step. Hope is what gets us through the day. It has gotten me through the last 21 years, my 40 years before 9/11, and will guide me through the next phase of my life.

We find hope in the little things and translate them into signs that bring us comfort. We might see a spiritual connotation in a dragonfly, believing its our loved ones stopping by to say hello. When some find a penny on the sidewalk, they’ll pick it up, adding it to their collection of pennies from heaven. In a rainbow stretched across the cloudy sky mixed with the sun’s rays, we may feel it’s a sign that our loved one is watching over us. A heart-shaped rock found on the beach brings warmth from within, and we treasure it as if it’s a personal gift from our loved one. All these little signs bring us hope.

So many changes have occurred in my life since September 11, 2001 – the day we all thought hope was gone when our lives were devastated with an event so horrific even today we sometimes sit back and think “I can’t believe this happened.” But as we learned to grieve and accepted the new life forced upon us, we reluctantly began to realize that life must go on. Changes would happen, both good and bad, and we would find a way to welcome the good ones and live with the bad; we would come to celebrate the good changes and embrace them. Through those changes we find comfort in memories, revisited often as we experience different phases of our lives.

My hope over the years was that our children would grow to be happy, healthy, compassionate and kind people. They’ve grown to be young adults of whom their dad would be proud, as am I. Hope and a lot of prayers got me through the good times, and especially the difficult years raising 3 children alone. Momentous occasions in our lives are so bittersweet and even though with each one there are tears of sadness, they are mostly tears of joy. In the kids’ weddings we found ways to subtly honor their father who would have taken enormous pride in seeing his 3 children marry their soulmates.  The two grandsons (who along with our grand daughter bring us so much hope) each bears Jeff’s middle name as their own middle name. As I watch my children today, 21 years later, I marvel at how much they remind me of their dad, how they’ve acquired some of his mannerisms, how their laugh can be strikingly similar, and how a glance at my son sometimes can be a reminder that he truly is his father’s son. While it’s been difficult on so many levels, I’m encouraged by their ability to fully live their lives despite the incredibly traumatic loss they’ve experienced. I’ve done my best to help them, as they’ve helped me find ways to remember and to live a life Jeff would have wanted for us. A life filled with love, adventure and hope.

As we remember 9/11 today, I ask you to keep hope alive during these difficult times, and remember and honor those who died that day, simply by being kind. Pay it forward with a simple random act of kindness.  

The Real Meaning of Memorial Day

 Last week in more than 80 degree heat, 100 volunteers helped Massachusetts Military Heroes Fund create its 12th Annual Garden of Flags on the Boston Common. In non-covid times, this would have involved 700 volunteers and taken 90 minutes, but because of state regulations, we had a smaller crew of first responders, veterans and health care workers. Over the course of 11 hours, the sloping ground from the base of the Sailors and Soldiers' Memorial was covered with 37,342 American Flags. Each of these flags represents a service member who died in service, or as a result of service, since the Revolutionary War. Each represents a family that has grieved their loss, and too many who still do.

Memorial Day is a time to remember those who made the ultimate sacrifice. Its meaning over the years has been lost to mattress and car sales, to bbqs and opening summer homes. Few acknowledge what Memorial Day stands for as they greet people with "Happy Memorial Day!" Town parades that honor the fallen draw sparse crowds. 

Meanwhile, families of  those who've served and died endure the once well-intended National Holiday with appreciation for the respect some offer, and with tolerance as they repeatedly hear Happy Memorial Day. 

One of our inspirations in creating this flag garden 12 years ago, in addition to wanting to honor our grieving military families, was to help remind people that Memorial Day has a solemn meaning. Its significance matters to Gold Star families and the families who've lost loved ones as a result of PTS-related suicides, training and other accidental deaths while serving, and disease caused by exposure while serving. Therefore, its meaning should matter to us.

We hope, and we think displays like the flag garden help drive home the true meaning of the day. I wrote the following blog a few years ago, but it bears repeating annually.

Memorial Day was designated in 1868 by General John Logan as a day to honor soldiers killed in battle. It was originally called Decoration Day, as 5000 volunteers decorated the graves of the 20,000 Union and Confederate soldiers buried at Arlington.  The day was designated for the "purpose of strewing with flowers, or otherwise decorating the graves of comrades who died in defense of their country," according to General Logan, the national commander of the Grand Army of the Republic.  

Simply put, it's a day to remember the fallen -- those who gave the ultimate sacrifice in service to our country. 

It wasn't intended to be a day for department store sales and sheer fun, rather a day to honor and remember, and a day to reflect on the heroism of those who served and died for our country. When and how did "Happy Memorial Day" become the accepted sentiment?  Would you ever say Happy Pearl Harbor Day, or Happy September 11, or Happy Anniversary on the anniversary of a loved-one's death?  It would seem insensitive and inappropriate to give such a greeting.  It's no different with Memorial Day.

No one discourages a celebration of the weekend that signifies the unofficial start to summer or gatherings of family and friends, but just take some time to acknowledge its meaning -- attend a parade that honors our fallen, take your children to a local memorial and explain why the names are engraved on that wall, let them help plant flags on a veteran's grave, create your own symbolic flag garden at your home or your neighborhood. Teach them to respect the sacrifice the service members made as they bravely faced the enemy in defense of our country -- an enemy that comes in many different forms.

Memorial Day is also often confused with Veterans Day, and many will use it as a time to say thank you to Veterans and active duty/reservists.  While it's always appropriate to show our appreciation to veterans and current military, Veterans Day, Nov. 11, is the day designated for thanking a vet.  Reserve Memorial Day for remembering the fallen -- "Memorial" does suggest a remembrance of someone no longer here.

The Flag Garden on the Boston Common is a beautiful and poignant reminder of the real meaning of Memorial Day. The idea came from a story told about the impact 3000 flags had on my daughter, a young college student away from home for her first time on the anniversary of 9/11, the day that took her father from her.  From there, the germ of an idea was born, and the first annual Massachusetts Military Heroes Fund garden of 20,000 flags quickly grew.

 Now more than 37,000 flags cascade down from the Sailors and Soldiers Memorial until Tuesday, the day after Memorial Day.  37,000.  It's a big number, and one that is hard to comprehend, until you see the flags.  They seem to wave in unison as the breeze catches them.   325 of them represent the sisters, brothers, sons and daughters, wives and husbands, partners, mothers and fathers, friends and other relatives who died in service or as a result of service since 9/11. 

 It's difficult to look at the flags without feeling a connection; without seeing a tear from a child's eye who is missing his or her daddy; without feeling the pride of a father as he talks about his hero daughter; without hearing the pain in the laughter of siblings remembering the last time they were together before the uniformed military personnel showed up at their door with news of their loved one's passing. Each flag stands for a life -- for a family in mourning.  

A discussion of how best to honor the fallen heroes of the Massachusetts Military Heroes Fund Families on Memorial Day became a Garden of Flags that has now become a part of Boston's tribute to Massachusetts heroes for the last 12 years. Thousands visit the garden each day, taking pictures, marveling at the bittersweet beauty, and shaking their head at the numbers.  Thousands stop for at least a moment to realize there is a real meaning behind Memorial Day -- to remember a life; to honor a family who feels the loss in their lives every day. 

So instead of saying Happy Memorial Day, encourage gratitude and respect for the sacrifices made. Honor and Remember the fallen on Memorial Day. And just be kind to others in their memory.

Hope

This past year, 2020, was a tough one. Most of us were more than ready to bid farewell to the year that challenged us in so many ways. The year of nasty politics, covid-19, loss, financial stress, racism, and many unprecedented natural events tested our faith, compassion, tolerance, strength, resilience, and consideration for others. 

The year that separated us from those we love also took away the livelihoods of too many, cancelled our travel plans, stole our normalcy, halted any special events and gatherings, and most tragically, took the lives of more than 300,000 Americans. Combined with 3 weeks into January 2021, we're sadly already over 400,000 deaths.

But there were bright spots, too, for some of us. I accompanied my sister to Antarctica, fulfilling a long-time dream she had of seeing penguins in their natural habitat. Something I never thought I wanted to do ended up being the trip of a lifetime, giving me memories to last as long as my mind is intact. My son and his wife gave me a grandson, Brody, who is the new love of my life. And my girls both got engaged to young men who have proven how much they love my daughters and how well they fit into our family. As my mom once told me about Jeff, I love my children's significant others as if they were my own. 

Although we couldn't celebrate the outgoing 2020 and welcome in 2021 with our friends and family as we normally would have, we were all excited for a fresh start. No more memes comparing 2020 to our worst nightmares, the worst imaginable food, or a pile of garbage. The New Year, we had hoped, would show promise for better times. There was no guarantee, but the hope was there, and it was strong.  

Now we're into the third week of 2021 and the memes are reminding us it didn't start as we so desperately wanted. One of the most popular memes says our trial period for 2021 is up and we want our money back. It has begun worse than last year ended, with Covid numbers up higher than ever. Politics took a turn so vile with a president-inspired violent attack on the US Capitol resulting in five deaths that it's hard to believe this is America. Washington D.C., usually abuzz with excitement in anticipation of an inauguration is looking more like a fortress with miles of barricades topped with barbed wire blocking access to a vast area surrounding the Capitol. Nearly 25,000 armed soldiers replace the tourists and DC residents usually mulling around to enjoy the historic event. State Capitols around the country are also bracing for possible attacks.

But with the arrival of President-elect Biden and Vice-President-elect Harris, it feels like a calm has come over us and America is experiencing a rebirth. We're turning a page on four years of negative vitriol, of bullying and lies, of pitting people against each other, of encouraging hate for the media, of defiling our democracy, and of ignoring facts, truth and science. And we're making history, with the first woman becoming vice-president --  a woman of color and Asian decent.

I have a lot of friends, and even some family, who will disagree wholeheartedly with my optimism for the future under the new administration. But being guided by positivity, compassion, decency, kindness and experience, I think the division that has dominated our country the last 4 years will eventually subside.  I pray to God we will once again find common ground to help heal America, both physically from the virus, and emotionally, as we remember we all want the same thing in the end -- peace, happiness, prosperity, understanding, love, and unity. This begins with us. Let's remember a difference of opinions is what makes us unique. Let's put aside the hatred. Let's stop the negativity on social media and use it for its purpose -- to keep in touch, share information and inform. Let's become the nation our constitution intended us to be -- One nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all. 

Covid Christmas

Leading up to Christmas 2020, my kids and I had a plan. We knew the day would look and feel a lot different this year because of Covid-19 and the post-Thanksgiving surge. We anticipated not being able to gather with the extended family at my sister's-in-law house in Boston, but we figured if we -- the kids and I -- could still get together, we could accept this year's changes and just hope for normalcy next year. So in the weeks prior we dialed back our shopping, doing as much as possible on line, and our interaction with others, which had already been at a minimum. 

But as the day approached and Covid-19 crept closer and closer to us, we decided the best thing to do would be to spend Christmas apart, connected by our traditions, our family bond, and of course, Zoom! Thank goodness for Zoom. 

Although I still did almost as much baking as I do every Christmas, I must say this Christmas came and went without all the stress I normally subject myself to! Instead of running crazy Christmas eve without any time to stop and smell the glorious holiday scents, I was relaxed. Julia and I "attended" mass via Zoom -- sitting on the couch in our sweats snuggled with Zona (the cockapoo). After a takeout dinner from Legal Seafood (keeping our tradition of  dining at Legal after church), Julia and I drove around town delivering cookies and viewing the Christmas lights -- in our pajamas.  The rest of the night consisted of Hallmark Movies, Julz making apple crisp while I made cinnamon rolls, stuffing stockings, and watching the Pope say midnight mass. I retired for the night about 3 hours earlier than I usually do on Christmas Eve (1:30 instead of 4:30), on the couch, with the lights lit on the "Jeff tree." I thought about how different Christmas day would be not having my kids all together, but counted my many blessings, one being that we could gather via Zoom. I felt worse for my 89-year-old father-in-law who had just tested positive for Covid and would have to spend the day alone. At least the rest of us had the capability of connecting via Zoom, unlike him who only has a flip phone, by choice, and little to no technical knowledge. 

Christmas morning was laid back. With a fire going, cinnamon rolls in the oven and mimosas poured, Julia and I were waiting patiently to Zoom with Matthew and Meaghan when Matthew called. "Surprise. I'm outside for a quick distant visit so you can see Brody. We'll be in the garage. Wear your mask and don't come closer than 6 feet." I grabbed my mask and went outside. I tried to utter "best Christmas gift ever," but my tears silenced the words. They were both happy tears for getting to see my grandson on his first Christmas, even if at a distance, and tears for the absurdity of it all -- this Covid Christmas. After a bit, the kids went back to their home in Boston and we zoomed our Christmas.

The rest of the day Julz and I spent in our pajamas, watching Hallmark movies and cooking dinner together. 

It certainly wasn't the Christmas most of us had hoped for. It was about making the best of the situation we've become too familiar with over the last 9 months. Of course we missed all those we couldn't be with, but we recognize  how fortunate we are to have been able to celebrate "together," with no new empty seats at the virtual table.  This strange year really drove home the real meaning of Christmas -- celebrating Jesus, which means celebrating love, and celebrating family, because there's nothing more important than that. 

mom

Anyone who knows me well knows I am the youngest of 12 -- I have 7 sisters and 4 brothers. Sadly we lost a brother to cancer 3 years ago, but not before we had a long awaited all-sibling reunion in San Diego for the first time in about 40 years. Our father died in September 2002, but our mom is thankfully still with us.

Mom was born and raised in Barbados, and when she left for New York in 1944 to marry our dad, she didn't know then that she would never see her parents again, or that it would be 40 years before she would return to her homeland. She was 39 when she had me, 15 years after giving birth to our oldest sister, Bobbie. She never learned to drive, and never worked outside the home. The woman who never wanted children spent her life caring for them -- after raising all of us she babysat for her grandkids and eventually for teachers' children in our home. She loved soap operas, she was a voracious reader of romance novels, and could tackle a New York Times crossword puzzle like a wordsmith. She was an okay cook although didn't enjoy it, but we were well-fed. The concoctions she came up with on a very tight budget (like hamburger over rice, hotdogs over rice, kidneys over rice, cow tongue) have given us fodder for laughter today. She taught me how to be a mother in the way she loved me and took care of me.

Mom turns 99 today, Nov. 22. We are grateful to have her still, but dementia has claimed her memory and her mind over the last several years, leaving her a shell of herself. Phone conversations are short and lack substance -- she doesn't remember what she did five minutes ago, never mind that day, so we talk about the weather and how she's feeling. I tell her about my kids and my new grandson, wishing she could share in the joy of my growing family and the news of my daughters getting married next year.  I don't even think she knows who I am, so I remind her that I am her youngest daughter (and her favorite 😉).  I believe she pictures me as the young girl she knew when her mind was intact. She can't fathom that I have a 32-year-old son who is married and has a baby, and that her own "baby" is 60 years old. 

She tells me how much she misses me and always asks "when can I see you." I tell her about the pandemic that won't allow me to fly there to see her, and I know she doesn't understand. Yesterday I told her how last year at this time a few sisters and i surprised her on her 98th birthday when we traveled to Alabama where she lives with our sister Linda and her husband Ron. She said how nice that would be if we could go this year, or maybe one day she can come visit me. In spite of her scattered mind, I'm fortunate to be able to tell her I love her and hear her say it back. 

I often wonder about the jumbled thoughts in her head. Does she know us in her brain, but can't process the memory to convey it to us? Yesterday she told me that someone told her she was going to be 99, and wanted to know if that's true. I told her it was and she said "good thing I don't look it!" I asked her if she felt it, and she said "no, I don't!" I hope I can say the same if I live to be 99!

She is like the energizer bunny -- she just keeps going! She survived an intestinal obstruction last year, pneumonia, several falls and fainting spells. She walks with the help of a walker, but physically is in pretty good shape. She has certainly gifted us with good genes!

It's been hard watching her mind whither away the last 10 years or so. But it's been the most difficult on Linda who has cared for her for about 8 years and sees her mental and physical decline daily. She left her job at the pet store to be home with mom, and can no longer just pick up and go somewhere -- she must first make arrangments for someone to be with her. Linda raised her own 5 kids and helps with her 9 grandchildren, and now with our mom it's almost like she has another child to take care of. She answers the same questions over and over again, makes sure she eats her meals, and is her caretaker in every sense of the word. She never complains to us about it and doesn't see it as a burden.

We owe a debt of gratitude to Linda and Ron. Thanks to them, mom is well-cared for and loved. And we can rest easy knowing that. So in this week of Thanksgiving, I am grateful to Linda and Ron for being mom's lifeline and giving us peace of mind. God has set a special place for them in heaven!

Hopefully this time next year we'll be celebrating Mom's 100 years with a family reunion of epic proportions for our 4-generation family!