It
was Autumn in Louisiana. The warm weather was waning,
and
I had begun to notice the smell of burning leaves, with
only
a few left clinging tenaciously to the trees, not wanting
to
let go, but knowing the inevitable. A cool clear breeze
greeted
each day, with the sun glinting thru the branches
of
oak, maple, and magnolia trees.
My
Grandchildren had new energy and
interest in the season,
waiting
for The Turkey Day which meant Santa would be
right
behind.
Autumn was here..and so beautiful.
I
could smell The aroma of woodburning fireplaces, always
a
signal that winter is on it's way. A time for harvesting.
I
knew my aunt Jewel would be busy preserving and getting
stocked
for winter, hoping she had remembered to "put up" a
few
extra quarts of fig preserves for me!
I
called my brother Roy, who lived with his
family in Tennessee
and
asked what his plans were for the Thanksgiving
Holidays.
After
talking for a while it was all set.
We
were going to Tennessee for Thanksgiving. The day
we
were to leave he must have called us ten times. "Are
y'all
coming or what?" he would ask. He was so excited.
We
got a late start and arrived in Nashville in thewee hours
of
the morning. That just added to the excitementof
the moment.
My
sister, Deborah, had driven up from Alabama, and
her
daughter
came the next day. My younger brother Payton
his
wife, Rose, and daughter had driven from Dallas. My brother
has
3 children, each married with families, And they were all
waiting
up for us to arrive that cold blustery Tennessee night
of
the eve of Thanksgiving. It
was enough just for us to be
together,
but The warmth and the smell of food cooking filled
the
house and the night air adding to the magic.
The
carpet of leaves, crisp and golden, that lay on the
ground
created A perfect late Autumn night.
There
was something warming, and somehow appropriate
that
the day we set aside to be together and count
our
blessings had truly been lined with gold.
I
never wanted it to end. Oh
it was good to be here!
But
nothing lasts forever, except loving memories.
All
my family was there, with the exception of my
son, Mark,
who
was in Korea, so we made a video with Thanksgiving
greetings
from
each one and sent to him. Some stayed
at my brother's
children's
homes at night, and we made"Baptist Pallets"
on
the floor just so we could all be together.
And
we were so together! We made a pact that we would make
this
a tradition and would all return every Thanksgiving.
I
wished that everything could remain the same.
That
this season would not lead to the bleakness of winter,
and
that none of us would even have to grow older.
My
brother Roy's son David, would later tell my daughter,
"this
is the first time I have seen my daddy smiling since
Big
Mama, (as my Mother was affectionately known,) died."
The next
year we made the trip to Tennessee and all
the
warmth, love, and feelings were there but there
was
a difference. I noticed a difference in my brother
Roy,
but couldn't put my finger on it.
He
seemed to nap a lot, and some of the excitement
seemed
to have gone from his face.But I didn't know why.
Nor
did I know this would be the last Thanksgiving
we
would spend together.
My
brother's passing from this life in August 1997 has made
theThanksgiving
season seem bittersweet.
Perhaps
it is this time of year, in autumn when sighing leaves
die,
animals gather a winter's stock of food, and the earth's
harvest
is collected and stored, that the cycle of life
and
the inevitability of death stares us down.
How
do I ever accept losing my childhood playmate,
my
friend, my brother? Just
as tho closing a book after the
story
is finished? The sun setting on all the "yesterdays"
..never
to come again. Childhood may not be important or
even
necessary to some people, and I don't think it was really
necessary
for me either. But it's nice to have, lingering in a
place,
where you can bring it back with just a "twinge" of
memory,
or the tug of a heartstring. It is important to me.
Amid
all
the pain I sometimes haveforgotten all the many
things
I could and should be grateful for.
Realizing
that on some days the tiniest thing that eases my
heart's
burden is indeed a blessing in itself.
And
I wonder if where he is, is he aware of the changing seasons?
Perhaps
the brother I loved so much is where
the seasons go when
once
more this earth is through with them.
And
does he remember the "earthly" traditions
and
the plans we made to be together on Thanksgiving?
So with
all due respects to Mr Frost, in my family
we
know about accepting with grace the end of a season.
But
never the end of love.
I
choose to remember my brother, captured in time,
as
he was that Tennessee Thanksgiving in 1995.
Smiling,
happy, ...and living for that moment in time when
we
all were together. A time that meant so much to us all.
We
have learned to cherish each and every day and holiday now.
Though
miles may seperate us, we are bound by our love,
our
friends and family, the loving memories of thosewho will
always
live in our hearts, and a merciful and healing
God.