On the other hand, my mother died in April. My mother was wonderful. Gracious, kind, intelligent, decent, funny...and my mother. Both of my parents in one; my father died when I was a toddler and my sister was an infant.
I'm no toddler now, and neither is my sister. Mom was 74 when she died. But nothing--even longterm illness--really prepares you for losing your only living parent. My sister and I were there when she died. I was holding her hand. But at the moment, it feels like it will hurt forever. So far not a day has gone by without me thinking, "I need to tell Mom...."
We were lucky. Very, very lucky to have such a parent, and very lucky to have had her not only through childhood, but into middle age.
My sister and I sorted through the things she left. It wasn't a terribly long task; Mom sold her house 10 years ago and went to live with my sister, so we sorted through a few things left in a room. But I took the bulk of the photos, including some that had belonged to my father.
Here are a few of the pictures I brought home.
Joan Minckler, 1956
The Minckler Family, ca. 1944
John (Johnny) and Joan Minckler, ca. 1940
Tech Sgt. Richard (Rick) F. Forster, ca. 1942?
Margaret (Meg) and Eileen Forster, ca. 1969