She loved being outside. She worked outside, along side my
dad, all of her life--in the fields, the pasture, the
chicken houses. All of us took walks outside on Sunday
afternoons, roaming the pasture and the woods, looking for
wildflowers in the Spring.
My mother and dad did everything together. She worked with
him outside on the farm, and he helped with the housework.
They worked together, and everywhere they went, they
were together, including every service at the little
church in town.
Through all the years and all the changes in
the family, they were together, and they were
always there for us as their children.
As the older children were growing up and leaving home,
we still got together for every holiday: Every Thanksgiving
and Christmas, every Easter, every Memorial Day, Fourth
of July, and Labor Day, every Mother's Day and Father's
Day. The two younger ones, Bob and I, moved further
away, but we always sent gifts or flowers and cards,
and we called often, especially on the those special days.
They were always together, until my dad died just
before Father's Day in 1985.
My mother lived on through ten more Mother's Days,
and the roles reversed a little more every year--
we took care of the holiday plans, and then we
took care of her.
Then just before Mother's Day in 1996, she went
to be with my dad again.
"Always"
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