Ma, My Dad, Pa
The cheery thought for today: Everybody Dies.
Thank God, this thought wasn’t brought about by any specific person passing away today. It’s just that I was reading a biography and it mentioned how much the main character enjoyed Christmas dinner at his grandparent’s home. I stopped reading and thought about the many wonderful Christmas (and Thanksgiving and Easter) dinners I’ve enjoyed in the company of various relatives. Then, when I resumed reading, the next part of the story was about this guy’s grandfather kicking the bucket, and that started me thinking about all of the people I miss.
My mind raced around, recalling many folks who gave me love but who are no longer around for me to say "Thanks!" to. That’s not a big problem for me - one thing about both sides of my family is that we tend to say things like "Thanks" and "I Love You" before it’s too late, and we’re also very big on hugs and kisses – but I’d sure like to be able to say it again, anyway, to a few folks in particular. Here’s one.
On my father’s side of the family, the great majority of folks haven’t lived to collect much of their social security or retirement.
Ma and her children - David, Jimmy, Loretta, and Tommy (my dad, who looks
gigantic because of the big difference in ages between he and his
siblings. In reality, he stood about 5'10".)
My father’s mother, Ma, was the first person who died. That is, she was the first person whose death touched me profoundly and made me struggle with the concept of never seeing someone again in this life. I was 9 years old. She was 56.
Dinner at my Mom's parents, with Sullivans invited guests.
From other end of table, on left: Uncle David, Uncle Jimmy, My Dad,
My Mom, not sure but may be my Grandma Drown, Auntie Ba (to some Retzie,
to others Loretta), Pa, Ma, again not sure.
Christmas 1960 at Ma & Pa's. L to R: Friend of Retzie, Retzie,
Grandpa Drown, Mom, Me, Tippie, Ma, Pa.
At Hialeah Racetrack, Florida, just a couple of months before her death.
Me (snazzily dressed, as always), Ma, My Dad.