Grace June

Forty one years ago today my mother died. March 12, 1967. She was forty-five. I was nine. Not a day goes by that I don't think of her for one reason or another. Today I can't help but think of the fact that I am five years older now than she was when she died. I know that my brothers and sister think of her as well, and that this date is remembered by them too. She was the sun that warmed us. And I can't help thinking that, had she lived a while longer, my life might have been different in a million little ways.

Our relationships with the dead continue to change over years, I've come to believe. At different stages of life we begin to understand things that we couldn't possibly have before we had certain experiences or knowledge of certain things. We forgive, we accept, we grow. But we do not forget. The memories can be cherished without being idealized.

Sisters- Mom, Dorty, Lois, Joan

Grace June graduates

Me, Mom and Joyce (left to right)