My 90-year-old mother sits in a wheelchair in a nursing home and stares into space, a terror no more. How utterly and completely strange.
I go through her papers and few possessions while we wait for the end, though who knows when that will be. I learned that she had an agreement with a Tucson funeral home from over 20 years ago to purchase a cremation at a price that’s half what they charge today. When I called, they said they’d honor it. No doubt that would please her.
Yesterday I went to the storage unit to locate my stash of old photos and slides. When I opened one of the boxes, I found a packet of documents Helen had given me over 30 years ago that I thought had been lost. Included among these were original letters (laminated in plastic) from ancestors of mine, most dating from the 19th century. Half of her family came to America from France, and there are letters in beautiful, fine handwriting sent from there to relatives in Baltimore. I also have a photocopy of an 1880 census document that could prove very useful in the event I ever straighten all this out. It already has, actually, because I also found this, a brief letter written by one of my mother’s great-uncles. It’s so startling in its poignancy that I’ve decided to share it with the world:
I may have these people all mixed up. (There was more than one “William” and “Amelia.”) If I’m correct, however, this concerns the death of my mother’s great-aunt: one brother writing to another about their sister. I have no idea what the year would be, but the Amelia I’m thinking of was born in 1870 in Maryland. Just imagine what it must have been like to learn of the death of a sister by means of a letter from far away, long after the fact! And the author can’t bear to come right out and say the truth at first. You can almost feel him breaking up as he writes.
The emotion resonates so strongly. This feels like something happening right now. As if there were no past or future, just a wide, wide stage with everybody on it.
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So happy you are sharing this information….so much I don’t know about our family history! This is very exciting!
When I put together what I have, I can copy it and send it to you. Helen’s typed genealogical notes, especially. What I really should do is transcribe them to digital for emailing.
Some of these things are exciting and stir emotions in a universal way, I think. Almost anyone can relate to them. I like the undercurrents and little secrets, myself.
I was just in France and wished I would have known more of our family history. We know practically nothing. I have heard my mom talk of an Uncle Townsend. That’s all I remember is his name. I wouldn’t think that would be the one in the letter but certainly named after him. Actually he lived here and I believe he helped mom when she got polio and cut a stick out of the woods for her to use as a crutch. That was actually all they did for mom’s polio. I don’t know if you remember she had one short leg and without a shoe would limp. If you send Karen the history, she can copy it and send it to all of us. I know my son Matthew loves family history and would enjoy knowing the Masson side.
Hi Linda!
I’ll certainly pass everything I have on to Karen, once I’ve had a chance to go through it all. There isn’t much. If it’s helpful to know, the documents the above letter is part of were all copied and sent to Liddian at the time.
But don’t worry, I’ll see that you have this information.
I thank you for all your information. I hold Aunt Helen very dear to me, since I am the oldest of Aunt Aolia’s children. I am eighty now. I remember being in Grandma Massons little house when your mom was in high school. Uncle Buddy and I are only 4 years apart. He is older. My sisters remember none of the early years of your mom. Your mom is a special lady. Please let me know when anything happens. Thanks again. Jane
Hi Jane! Great to hear from you. Wow, you remember from when Helen was in high school.
Of course I’ll let you know. I’ve been in touch with Buddy and he’s very sad about what’s happening with his “last sister,” as he put it.
The good times you and others remember will help round out the picture of my mother’s life after she is gone. I too have a number of good memories from the early years. But Helen did have serious emotional and psychological problems most of her adult life, and the last 20 years, especially, were very hard for everyone.
Rest assured she’s getting excellent care in the time she has left. I’m looking out for her as best I can, and now is the time for remembering the good things. It’s helpful to reflect that she was once young and had her whole life in front of her. She often spoke of you.
We’ve undergone such drastic change in our lifetimes, culminating in our current culture of hyper-connectivity. As your letter shows, however, it wasn’t always so. My dad used to tell me stories from the Depression, stories of friends and relatives leaving home because there was no hope at home but maybe things were better elsewhere. Once they walked/drove away, there was the very real possibility that you would never hear from them again.
It’s better now, I guess. Connectivity is fun. But most of us will never have a letter like yours, hiding in a box, a cold slap of reality from the past just waiting to make an appearance.
“I guess” is right! I just experienced a storm of network data going in and out, and I wasn’t doing anything on the computer. What does that mean?!?
And how about my Aunt Aolia? Polio? Just have your uncle cut a stick from the woods for a crutch. Now there’s some cold reality, too. She lived a long time, BTW.