Two, count them, two posts in one day.

It was a wonderful Mother's Day.  Don and I spent the morning trying to decide what to do about our gazebo.  We got it for a song shortly after Mark left us.  We had to have a tree taken down and it left nothing but sun on our patio and the back of our house.  We have babied the canvas cover for the past four years.  About a month ago, during one of the storms, the top blew off while we were gone.  We came back and tried to reshape the bent brackets, but no luck.  We decided that we will probably take it down and put a cover over part of our patio.

We then went to the cemetery.  I have been keeping a spray bottle and towels in my car so that whenever I stop by Mark's grave, I can "wash his face" so to speak.  I bought some pretty new flowers to put on his grave, talked to him a bit,, then we placed flowers on the graves of Don's grandmother and great grandmother.  For some strange reason, it has always given me peace that Mark was buried near grandparents, even though he nor I had ever met them.  I know these ladies will keep him in line.

Before we went to the cemetery, Don gave me a beautiful art glass dragonfly that I had seen in a specialty shop.  I saw it hanging from the ceiling of this shop when I was looking for something special for Lisa.  Even though this store isn't close to our home, I must admit that I have "visited" this shop on more than one occasion just to see it again.  It cost way way too much money for me to buy.  I was so surprised when Donnie gave it to me...I think sometimes he rolls his eyes at dragonflies.  I mentioned to him yesterday that I didn't want him ever to say anything bad about my dragonflies, because they make me happy.  This one is so special.

It is all clear glass...I say it is crystal but I know that it really isn't.  I think sometimes when I look at it, it looks like an angel.  Other times, it looks like a cross, which is why I wear a dragonfly pendant instead of a cross.  For me, the dragonfly IS a cross...the message behind the cross that I will see my Mark again.  It is a more of a religious symbol for me than anything.  Yet, I do like to say that I am sure Mark is thrilled I turned him into a bug.

Afterwards, we went over to John's as he and Tabitha had fixed us a wonderful lunch.  We enjoyed spending time with them and watching the boys play.  They gave me a beautiful card (with a verse written by, no kidding, "D. Walley") and beautiful gifts.  I appreciate that Tabitha gives up part of her Mother's Day to make sure that I have special time with her, John and the boys.  They are the sparkle in my life.

When we returned home, there in our front yard, was a dragonfly wind vane.  Neither Don nor I know who does this every year....but we both know that it is Mark that is behind it.  Did I secretly hope there would be something again this year?  I would be lying if I said I didn't.  I have long since stopped guessing who is doing Mark's legwork, and I don't ever ever want to really know.  I just hope this person knows that for the past three years, my mother's day has been made extra special because I do feel that Mark has made his presence known.  I think this year, it impacted Don even more.  He talked about this wonderful gift for the longest time, and even though I had already thought of it, insisted that it be kept in our backyard Mark garden so that it would be safe.

We sat and watched the dragonflies gently sway with the wind.  Subtle, soft and magical, and very very special.

I have posted a picture of my dragonfly wind vane...given to me by Mark through some special person who has touched my heart.

Yesterday Don and I spent our afternoon and most of our energies cutting down two overgrown bushes in our back yard.  We were spent after we finished and left the rest of the day to just recover.  I got  some of our yard work done, but so much more to go.

Last evening, I spent some more time working on “dead people” as Don calls my genealogy fun.  While I was doing this, I was also watching a television show of “Extraordinary Mothers” .  These were famous mothers who have done incredible things.  They left out a few as far as I am concerned.

I thought of Emilie deGroene DeWalle, who came to St. Louis in the 1880’s from Belgium.  She married Peter DeWalle and they had four children.  On Christmas Eve, her husband was killed in an industrial accident.  She was left with four little children, no money, spoke no English.  Two of her children did not live to adulthood.  She had another child with her second husband, but this man was very cruel to her and her eldest son ran him out of town….with no records ever found as to what happened to him.  She never saw her homeland again, but didn’t need to, because her children were here.

I thought of Annie Colas who came from France and lived in Pennsylvania.  She had several boys, and a husband that didn’t seem to stay put.  One day, this husband went to France and brought back a son of his that had been left there….Annie was now the mother of a young French boy who spoke no English.  She just took him on as one of her own.

I thought of Mary Randall Brown Burnett Kessinger, who as a young orphaned girl, was “put over the fence and told to fend for herself” by the people who raised her for a few years.  She met a man who would make life better for her, only to lose him in the Civil War.  She would marry two more times, both times losing her husbands.   I haven’t found any sons…she left only two daughters, and only one of those daughters had children.

I think of the beautiful and scholarly Sarah Walburn Colas.  Sarah was one of the only educated women in my early family.  She attended schools in Washington DC and Chicago.  She was a social worker who helped the poor.  She married a minister and assumed the task associated with that role.  She had three children and died when her baby (my mother) was only two years old.

I think of Stella May Comer Henderson, who wasn’t formally educated, having only attended school to the fourth or fifth grade.  She was an incredible woman…years ahead of her fellow women.  She believed in equality of the sexes, equality of the races.  She loved Jesus and every single day of her life she strived to be a good Christian. 

I think of my mom, who has always been there for not only her family, but anyone whose path she may cross.  It is impossible for me to even describe the things that she has done, the impact she has made on all of us.  She is the first one I call when something wonderful has happened, and the first I call when there is a problem.

I also think of my fellow Angel Moms and the pains we feel on this day.  No Mother’s Day calls, no cards, no drop by visits coming from our special children.  We weren’t supplied with the tools that are needed when one loses a child….we are just trying to make it through each day the best way we can.

When I work on genealogy, I am not fascinated by names, birth dates, death dates or census records.  I am more interested in learning their stories, how they achieved what they did in the world in which they lived.   I think all of them are my “Extraordinary Mothers”.

What a busy day!  I got up at a reasonably early hour for me, got the shopping done and started on the projects of the day.

Don didn't feel really well today.  He hasn't for several days and I am starting to get a little concerned.  Then, a little while ago I checked my email and noted that there was a message posted on the guestbook....asking how Don is doing since his heart attack.

He is still going to rehab and doing everything he is supposed to do.  About a month ago he had another cardiac cath and another stent placed.  It is hard to tell if it is his rheumatoid arthritis or the heart attack that is slowing him down.  He really lacks the energy to do much.  I think that is one reason our gardens are lagging behind..not just the weather, but also a lack of energy on our part.

It is easy to fall into the same pattern of someone who isn't feeling well.  Many of the things that we like to do outside...we just haven't been doing.  Several weeks ago our neighbor just came over, took Don's lawn mower, and mowed our lawn.  I was so thankful for Ron for doing that for us.  He knew that Don couldn't do it.  We now have that all arranged with another neighbor who is taking that on for us.

It is rotten to get old.

I was glad that the lawn mowing problem is resolved.  Don asked the people at rehab if he could take walks, etc., on his own and they told him he could...just to be sure to let someone know that where he was going.  I think it really deflated him.

He has a couple of more weeks of rehab to go.  He thought he only had this week, but it was extended.

He has followed every instruction perfectly...including quitting smoking.  It's been a tough road for him, but he is doing OK.  I will just be glad when he is more back to normal.

So, I have been finding myself doing a lot of inside things such as quilting, "looking up dead people" and watching way too much tv.

Today it was nicer out,, and he came out and helped me a little bit as I got the front gardens ready for flowers.  He still hasn't started his vegetable garden but I am hoping that this weekend we can get that going as well.

Whomever it was that asked...thank you for your concern.  As has been for us in the past, we depend upon the prayers and concerns of our friends to keep us going.

Mark would have been all over the death of Osama.

The morning of 9-11, I was at Schnucks early.  Someone mentioned that an airplane had flown in to the World Trade Center.  I thought that it was a small private plane that lost direction.  As I drove home, I listened and realized that it was much more.  I got home in time to turn on the television and see the second plane hit.

Mark had an 11am class.  As usual, it was going to be an event in itself in waking him up.  I went down to his room and told him to wake up, turn on the TV.  We watched together for about 3 minutes and I reminded him he needed to get up.

"There won't be any classes today....we are at war."  And there he stayed, glued to the TV.  He did eventually get up and leave....only to return shortly later as he was right.....classes were cancelled.

It was a couple of weeks later that he decided he was going to join the Marines after he finished school.  He wanted to be an air marshal and shoot bad people.  That is the goal he had for the next two years, until the cancer came.

It was one of the few times I saw him cry...especially in the first round in 2004.  He had talked to some recruiter that cancer may not necessarily keep him out of the Marines....but chemo would for sure.

Mark never again mentioned his plan.  By 2004 he became more involved in the golf industry.  He thought that he had a better career options, but I knew he imagined himself as some macho hero gunning down terrorists.

I thought of him Sunday night as I listened to the events that unfolded in Pakistan.

He would have been all over it, and probably was.