In the winter of 1942 a handsome young soldier returned home to Missouri from training in California. He was preparing for deployment to Germany- but he had one last thing to do before he left. Ten months prior he had met a girl. He had his first and only date with the beautiful, fiery women's libber- who everyone said was "too good" for him. Having already been drafted, he was immediately shipped to California. But such an obstacle could not stop their communique. They each mailed a letter, every day without fail, for the next ten months. And when his next two days in Missouri came on December 11th, they married.
That same day, in a tiny town in central Missouri, a baby boy was born. He was the first born in a dysfunctional, angry family. He grew up to marry and have his own children, including a daughter who would often present him with a shiny new belt buckle on his birthday. A buckle that would adorn the belt he used to beat her, or was sometimes used as a weapon itself.
Eventually, long after their estrangement, the daughter would dread this day. Wondering far in advance about the yearly decision to wish or not-wish the old man a happy birthday. Eventually each year became determined by the old man's silence in September- when the daughter had not been wished a happy birthday.
The young soldier and his wife celebrated their love faithfully as decades and decades passed. On December 11, 2003, she sat by him in the mid-morning as he passed from this life. She noted feeling as though he had waiting for this day... their special day.
Less than two years later the now elderly woman married Ralph, an "Army buddy" of her late husband. Both in ailing health, they loved and comforted one another as they each so desperately needed in their octogenarian years.
And today, as my mother called to tell me that Ralph has passed away this mid-morning, she marveled at the significance of December 11th. She reminded me, as I had forgotten the date, of my having called her in 2004 to mourn the death of one of my favorite pets: a very loving rabbit named Notch. Though I didn't remember the date, I did remember coming home from work to find her limp and lifeless. Holding her close and crying, whispering apologies to her for not having taken her to a vet sooner, and the next day trudging through the snowlit, frozen woods with her small blanket-wrapped body in one arm and a shovel in the other. I remember the dirty difficulty of digging a grave in frozen, wooded ground.
On December 11, 2010, I celebrate the 30th birthday of new but close friend, and reflect on the immense joy and beauty that her birth... and the birth of my father... and the marriage of my grandparents... brought into the world. I reflect on how it's a day that holds creation for my family; beginnings, births, deaths. Happiness and grief.
Today is a day brimming with life.
No comments:
Post a Comment