Treasured Moments

Christmas is a time of reflection and family and warm feelings, and I know I'm going to cry as I write this.  It is intensely personal.  If you aren't up for it, don't read it.  That's my spoiler alert!

1.  In the fall of 1964, my mother had to travel to be with my grandmother and grandfather at the Mayo Clinic to hope to find out what was wrong with my grandmother's legs.  (They found a benign grapefruit-sized tumor that was pressing on her spine.  The surgery to remove it was successful but the damage had already been done.  She remained in a wheelchair for the last 15 years of her life.)  I was a senior in high school.  In Mom's several-day absence, I had auditioned for--and got--the lead in my school's fall play.  That was a big deal.  Oak Park-River Forest High School had a real theater department, in a real auditorium, with real theater features, and the school was big enough with over 3,000 students that competition was stiff.

When we picked up Mom from the train station on her return, I finally found the chance to tell her my news from the back seat of the car.  She seemed delighted, even though exhausted and still worried about her mother's future.  A couple of days later, I heard pounding from the upstairs of the house. Never thought too much of it until I went to bed...and there, on my bedroom door, was a wooden star painted gold.  Just like on the dressing room doors of Hollywood stars!  I will never know whose idea it was.  I only knew that Dad made it in his wood shop at his school and that it meant my parents honored me.  I still have the star!!

2.  My parents footed the bill for my college education.  My housing, food, tuition, and books were covered...plus I was given an allowance.  Anything more, I had to work for...which I did.  (But not always wholeheartedly.)  Not too many kids these days can say that!  Graduation from Illinois State University---the same college that my father graduated from--was in June of 1969.  At that time, I was already engaged and we were making plans for an August wedding.  Still, on the day of Commencement, my father shook my hand and said, "Congratulations.  I have done everything I can for you by giving you a leg up on life.  The rest is up to you."  At first, I was confused, but then I understood that my parents weren't writing me off.  Dad was merely expressing pride in that they had provided me with something he'd had to work so hard for--a college education--and that I had gotten a degree and had already signed a contract for my first teaching position.  His job was done!

3.  As the wedding took place, my father walked me down the aisle of St. Stephen Protomartyr Church in Des Plaines, IL.  When he gave my hand to my future husband, he whispered in my ear, "Good bye, Peggy COVILL".  Why, Daddy...WHY would you want me to cry on my wedding day??!  My father, tough as he was, was a sentimental guy.  No matter what my last name is, I will always be a Covill!

4.  When my beloved grandmother died in 1975, I did okay...until the last pass by the casket after the visitation.  I broke down in sobs.  My mother held me up.  She said she wondered how long it would be before I gave in to the sorrow that I felt.  God bless my mother's understanding!

5.  The next day...the day of my grandmother's actual funeral--a VERY cold day in February---we had to practically carry my grandfather from the grave site.  He had lived out the vow of "til death do us part"...but now, he couldn't go.  He sobbed, "I don't want to leave her here!  I can't leave her here!" His children led him slowly and compassionately away, but it was not lost to me that this dear old man had been faithful in every way to the inevitable end.  I learned something about love that day.

6.  Ten years later, in early January of 1985, my 89-year-old grandfather was taken to the hospital with major pain in his gut.  It was determined that he had a bowel blockage.  No one wanted to operate on him because of his age, but the alternative was to let him be in horrible pain.  He went to surgery but never came out of the anesthetic.  He was comatose and unresponsive to stimuli for a week.

One night the next week, the hospital called me.  The nurse had been trying to locate my mother but couldn't find her.  I was next on the call list.  The nurse said, "Mr. Armstrong is on his way out."  I knew where my mother was, called her, then dashed off to the hospital which was only minutes away.  When I arrived, the nurse said, "When I called you, I thought Mr. Armstrong had expired, but he's rallied a bit".  But not for long.  I stood by his bed for no more than ten minutes as I watched the monitors go down and down and down until there was nothing left.  Suddenly, there was a priest by my side...and Sister Noreen, a grief nurse/nun.  (God bless Sister Noreen.  She was only doing her job, but I wanted her to go away.  We would all be fine!  I just needed time to prepare myself for the arrival of my mother and aunt.)

Nothing and no one will ever convince me that this whole thing was circumstantial.  I believe in my heart that my grandfather held on until someone from the family could be with him in his passing, and I was chosen.  All I could do was sob, "Well done, thou good and faithful servant."  And then I went (with Sister Noreen) to wait for my mother and her sister at the elevator.  They arrived right when I predicted they would.  I met them and told them that Popo had passed.  I felt my mother slump in my arms at the news; then we went into his room to see him.  I had already asked the nurse to remove all of the tubes and such for his daughters to see him.  On seeing him, my mother said, "Oh...that's not so bad."  And so, the torch was passed.  My grandfather had let me know in his passing that I was now in charge.  I did the best I could to be there for my family that night.

7.  My mother died suddenly on the day after Thanksgiving in 1986.  She'd had a "mild" stroke in October and was still in the hospital's rehab center when the bottom fell out.  Through all of this, there were problems between my husband and me.  He was angry with me because I'd had the audacity to host a garage sale at our house with a friend of mine without consulting him, so he announced that he would be taking HIS children to Indiana (we lived in IL at the time) to visit with his parents at Thanksgiving, even though that was in violation of the agreement we had made a scarce two years before to do one family or the other on the holiday, but not both.  This was MY family's turn...but it was not to be.  We were at odds for the entire month of October into November.  It wasn't nice.

That day, I wouldn't let our daughter go with him.  He griped about it, asking me what he was supposed to tell his parents about why she wasn't there.  I suggested that he should tell them the truth: that my family was in crisis and Megan needed to be home with me.  I'm not sure that ever sank in. In any case, he left for Indiana on the day after Thanksgiving...and my mother died that same day.

Will spare some of the sordid details.  Suffice it to say that my mother's sudden death left me numb.  My treasured moment in all of this heartache came at the grave site.  My in-laws...my husband's parents who didn't even really know my mother...came to the funeral.  And ONLY the funeral.  They didn't even stay for the bereavement dinner afterward.  They drove the four hours over and the four hours back just to be there for me.  All I know is that I turned from the casket at the cemetery, in my fog, into the arms of Artie McNary who had tears streaming down his face.  I'll never forget that. This dear man felt a compassion for me that I didn't ask for nor assumed.  What a blessing he was!

8.  Less than a month after my mother's death, I sat in the bleachers at Washington Elementary School in Pontiac, IL, for my daughter's Christmas concert.  She was 7.  She also had a solo in a song, The Friendly Beasts. I just blubbered, so sad and so proud...  Sad because my mother wasn't there to hear it, and proud because my child had such a clear and lovely voice.  Wow!  I still have a tape of that performance.  It will remain one of the shining moments of my memories.

9.  My father died while in my sister's care.  He had been ill, and she and her husband had been taking care of him at her house in Illinois.  At the time, I was involved in an Easter Cantata here in Indiana with a church somewhat west of my home, but I had a solo...and these cantatas are always emotional experiences. In any case, I came home from the first performance to a phone call from Shari that Dad had passed. There was one more cantata performance the next evening, and since I knew there was nothing I could do to help in IL, I stayed home for it.  I didn't know the other cantata cast members very well, but the night of the last performance, while we were putting on our costumes, I told the gals in the room that my father had died the night before.  One lady said, "Oh, how nice!"  I was shaken by that until she added, "Last night, your father couldn't hear you sing.  Tonight, he can!"
That made all the the difference in the world to me.  I still have no idea who she was...

My father was buried in his Navy uniform, as planned.  After he retired from the Navy, he became active in the American Legion in Streator, IL, serving as Adjutant and then Commander for many years.  At the funeral, one of his Legion friends stepped back from the casket, stood at attention, and saluted my father.  The final salute.  God bless the man!

10.  There are lighter memorable moments.  For example, the night my grandmother died, my mother and grandfather were at the hospital while my father waited for them at home.  When they returned to the homestead after she passed, my father greeted them at the door and embraced his father-in-law as they all sobbed...and in that moment, my grandfather's pants fell to the floor.  Laughter then intermingled with tears.  Stuff happens, not to be forgotten!

I guess all of these are treasured moments are because they occurred at times that tend to stay in memory. I hope I didn't dwell on deaths too much.  I have many more treasured moments, but not as poignant as these.  We remember things that happen in our most vulnerable times.  Why is that?? In any case, I pray that my future treasured moments are focused on the good stuff!