I had actually planned that today I would show a picture of my mom -- and wish her a Happy Birthday. She turned 86 today. In the middle of August I sent her a velour robe from the Vermont Country Store -- in red, her favorite color. I think she liked getting presents from me, even though she didn't send any in return. In early August Hubby had chatted with her briefly on the phone. She mentioned that I sent her gifts four times a year.
We had our difficulties. Mother never approved of Hubby. I didn't like her drinking. Neither one of us could give on the big issues in our lives -- so we ended up going our separate ways.
She was an only child. All her relatives are now dead, save me. I am an only child.
Happy Birthday, Mother.
Today the phone call came. She died during the night -- of her 86th birthday. Now only I am left of generations of Hills and Griffiths. Everyone is gone.
We may not have been close during the last 38 years -- but the memories that I carry from our early years can be sweet and I'll try and put the ugliness behind me forever.
When I heard from her lawyer I felt an emptiness I had not expected. The call, though attempting to be gentle, was cold and clinical. She was gone and my last family ties were cut forever. Goodbye, Charlotte Hill Griffith. I wish it could have all been better for us . . .