My Mother's Legacy

The last thing I told my mother before her death nearly eight years ago was that I loved her and that as long as we (her children and grandchildren) lived, she would live because she lived in us. I was thinking of DNA at the moment (or was I even thinking at all?), but this morning chromosomes and genes seem inadequate to describe the essence of a person and the legacy she/he leaves.

This past weekend I had the opportunity to get together with my sister, two brothers, their wives, two nephews, and my sweet niece, Sarah Beth. It was Family Day at Gardner-Webb, so the older generation joined the younger crowd to tour the campus, share a tasty brunch, hang out together at my nephews’ house, and spend some time catching up with each other’s lives. My favorite spots on campus were the chapel where we heard a young woman practicing her organ playing and the library where SB bought her aunt a book (more on this later). Our afternoon was sweetened by the pound cake and two pies baked by my sisters-in-law, tasty desserts we sampled around the kitchen table as the “menfolk” watched the Clemson game. The beautiful goldenrod blooming in a ditch outside of John and Chris’ house added just the perfect touch. My mother would have loved and appreciated that.

Why am I blogging about this? Because our day together reinforced the importance and connections of families. It’s been my observation that women are the “kinkeepers,” and I hope the gals in this picture will continue doing their dead level best to keep us connected and in touch. My mother, like “Mother Sarah,” would expect for us to continue in her absence, an absence that’s always present. By the way, it seems appropriate that the six of us were standing in front of a beautiful rose garden at GW because my mother LOVED flowers and had a gift for growing and arranging them.

For starters, I’m going to send my niece Sarah Beth, the youngest of the grandchildren, a card today. Maybe I’ll even slip a picture in it. Or better yet, some $$. That’s what her grandmother would have done.