Yesterday we spent the bulk of our time recalling our parents and our upbringing. More than once tears threatened to stymie our Time Machine travels. Sometimes painful tellings of our father's struggle with Leukemia troubled old scars. The empty space once occupied by our parents seemed so large. We'd then switch to fits of laughter as each shared unique stories synonymous with being naughty or sassy (you might be surprised to know I wasn't).
There's a 15 year age difference between the two of us. In our youth it mattered, but not so today. In some ways, we were raised by different parents, only because they'd learned alot in the span between her arrival and mine. She was the child of their youth - the first of their four joys. I was the child of their mid-life, born when mother was 42 and dad 46 - the last of their progeny. In between are two others: Barbara & Carol - 13 & 7 years younger than Dolores, respectively. Together we are the Wells Girls - a neighborhood identifier we all cherished, though not half so much as our father.
(L-R, Dolores, Carol, Barb & Kathleen)
It stands to reason that Dolores' memories would be colored in different hues from mine. But make no mistake, the distinctive thread that runs through both our lives is this: we were loved & nurtured, & taught to appreciate the things of hearth & heaven. Our parents were firm, but never stern or unkind.
It was so good to see you again yesterday, mommy & daddy. We love & miss you, & look forward to that day when we rendevous for eternity. Thank you for providing such a secure, noble upbringing. Thank you for loving the Lord & teaching us to do likewise. Thank you for loving each other & for demonstrating such respect & affection towards each other, & to us. We bless & honor you, and give God thanks for having planted us in the garden of your hearts; and you in ours.