30 years ago – November 1990

30 years ago I was settling into working full time again even though the work assignment was still very much in flux; the first project was cancelled before it could really get started and I was closing down the work and looking for the ‘what next.’ Concurrently – my 15 month old daughter had acclimated herself to being at day care for the full day 5 days a week…was enjoying cheerios and spaghetti and bubble bath and light switches (not at the same time)…and we flew from Maryland to Texas to celebrate Thanksgiving with my family.

That flight was probably the first flight since she had become mobile; the flight was not full, and she enjoyed small toys and books I had packed to keep her busy on the plane. There was a child a couple of years older in the row behind us on the way down and that helped too; they interacted via the slight crack between the seats. She was still small enough that I could carry her in on my back (we only used the backpack frame for a relatively short time…but it really worked well for those few months); I maneuvered through the airport and onto the plane easily although I noted that contorting myself to get the backpack on and off without assistance caused me to be sore on the travel days.

At my parents’ house, the mulberry leaves had been mostly raked away – but there were still a few to catch the interest of my daughter.

That was one of the few ‘quiet’ times of the visit. She and her cousin (the same age) did a lot together…enjoying the attention of aunts, uncles, and grandparents.

A very memorable experience happened for me that Thanksgiving Day. I was carrying may daughter into my sister’s house and I slipped in the entry way – almost falling backward. My mother saw the whole thing and commented that she was surprised that I was able to stand back up rather than just sitting down hard. I felt sore in my left hip a few hours later as I helped clear away the dishes after our huge meal. It didn’t bother me enough to see a doctor, but I’ve had some reduction in range of motion in that hip since then.

The day after Thanksgiving, my husband – who had stayed in Maryland – called with the news that his mother had died. I immediately changed my flight home to come back that evening. My daughter must have sensed my emotional stress or simply mimicked my subdued demeanor. She was very quiet…cuddled…then went to sleep on the plane. That weekend we took her with us to plan for the funeral and assess what we needed to do for her grandmother’s apartment. The real work and funeral happened while she was in day care the next week. We brought some of the flowers back to the house after the funeral and she looked at them over the baby gate. They were the only part of the funeral ritual she experienced…my husband pulled out one of the carnations for her to smell.

And so – from November 1990 onward – we have a tradition of putting flowers at the grave on Thanksgiving or the day after – silk flowers or a wreath at Thanksgiving, fresh cut flowers for her birthday in June.