Credit: Bernice Hatch
By Amy L. Hatch
My mom put a wreath on my father’s grave last weekend.
It’s his birthday on Dec. 6, and every year she goes to the local nursery to get him an evergreen wreath. I used to go with her when I lived back East.
It may seem morbid, but it makes us both feel better. It’s nice to visit him — the cemetery is beautiful, and his grave is under a lovely old tree. It’s peaceful and it gives us a chance to talk with him. Sometimes when we visit we bring his grandchildren — my two kids and my niece and nephew — and they laugh and play around his headstone. I like to think he can hear them.
I miss being able to visit him there.
I’ve been sick this week, and when I noticed that my dad’s birthday is approaching the two combined made me feel very homesick, indeed.
Emmeline came down with a sore throat and a cough just before the holiday, curtailing our travel East. I fell victim soon after I finished roasting the turkey, and it wasn’t until I collapsed on the sofa after dinner that I really missed seeing my family on Thanksgiving.
The reality sank in that I would probably only see my mom and sister one more time until the summer, unless one of them decides to come out and visit us here in Chambana. I know how hard it is to get away; otherwise I’d head back to Rochester and visit them more often, as well.
I do, however, tend to feel more homesick this time of year. Christmas was always such a big deal for my family when I was growing up. My mom would shop until her feet bled, my dad would grouse until Christmas morning when he tried to take all the credit for the gift-giving that my mother does so well.
I know that, like the upper respiratory infection that has me hacking and sniffling my way across Chambana, this feeling will pass. But that doesn’t make it any easier when I’m here at home, sick.
Amy L. Hatch is a co-founder of chambanamoms.com, and still wants her mommy when she gets sick. She writes “From Here to There,” a column about being a Northeastern girl on the prairie, on Tuesdays. You can reach her at amy@chambanamoms.com.
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You have such a powerful gift, Amy. Your posts always touch me in ways I never expect.
Sorry you didn’t get to visit your dad’s resting place. I feel the same way about visiting my grandpa’s grave; I sit and talk to him, I bring him pictures of the kids, I even bring his favorite foods sometimes. Some people may think it’s morbid, but it gives me a sense of peace and a closeness to him that I never want to lose.