Mother always took great pride and a giggle on the side that her birthday fell on St. Patty's Day. When we showed up to her home to take her out and spend time with her and Dad, she always wore green, and a shamrock in some way, shape, or form always shone, either as a piece of jewelry or decoration atop her head. If I had committed the unpardonable sin of not wearing a stitch of green on my body, she always made sure to run to her jewelry box to find something for me to wear. Four years ago, she gave me one of her jeweled shamrocks and told me to keep it. I tried to decline; she insisted. Guess who won?
Now that she and Dad are in a nursing home, it won't matter. But it matters to me and all her other loved ones. We'll make sure she's wearing green this year.
Below is a photo of Mother in 2013 with her youngest granddaughter (she has plenty of great-grandchildren, and even great-greats, but Carly is her youngest granddaughter). Note the shamrock earrings and her wonderful expression ... As an aside, my father-in-law (an accomplished knitter) made the green sweater Mom wears.
The following year, 2014, she even made sure that Dad was decked out appropriately for the occasion.
Mother always jokes how she robbed the cradle, seeing as how Dad is two and a half years younger than she. He's a fine man, and we love them both so very much.
My husband Jim goes over to visit them, an hour's drive away, at least once a week or every two weeks. I don't get over to visit as often. Due to my illnesses, when I do go, we can only stay an hour or two. If I don't go, my husband gets the opportunity to spend several hours and run errands for them. This past weekend, Jim, Carly, and I drove over to visit. Mother was sound asleep when we arrived, and Jim had difficulty waking her. Once awake, though, she remained alert and lucid for nearly two solid hours.
Dad got to talking about his time in the military during World War II--he had joined the Air Force and "traveled the world." He spoke of the heat and dust in the Middle East: Syria, Libya, and Egypt. He also talked of "driving a truck" every day, and that most of his unit didn't want to do it, but he liked getting out and away from camp. Only after we asked, "What kind of truck did you drive?" did he reveal that it was a 2-1/2 ton truck filled with bombs. Oh. No wonder the others backed away from the assignment. Not him. He said if the good Lord thought it was his time to go, He would take him no matter where he was or what he was doing, so driving the truck wasn't a problem.
Dad said his unit also traveled to India and Sicily. While traveling overground in Sicily, they all stopped along the roadside to eat dinner from tin cans. It wasn't tasty, he said, but it was something in the stomach. Halfway through the "meal," a man on a bicycle came along and asked them if they'd like a hot spaghetti dinner and some wine. The man led them into a small village. Dad said the spaghetti was probably some of the best he's ever had. As to the wine ... Dad had never tasted it, but always heard it could be sour. He impressed upon the Sicilian gent that he wanted sweet wine, if the man had any. The man gave him a large glass, and Dad tasted it. He was surprised--the wine was definitely sweet. And good! He laughed as he told us he drank the whole glass. This from a man who had never tasted alcohol prior nor since!
When he returned from the war, he shared that he lived in Minneapolis for a time. A radio station there had auditions for people to sing live on-air. His girlfriend at the time urged him to audition. Now, I never heard Dad sing when he was in his 20s, but I did hear him in his 50s and beyond. The man has/had an incredible voice. Back to the audition ... for whatever reason, he said, he decided not to go. Looking back, he's filled with regret at the opportunities that would probably have opened up for him. But now, he says, he'll never know. He concedes that he's had a wonderful life, an incredible life, but that wondering what might have been niggles at him to this day.
Dad went on to share some other things, but those were too private to spill on a public page. The minutes felt sacred as he divulged deep emotions and feelings from his life. We all counted ourselves privileged to be let in on something so very private.
I'm thankful for all these years I've known this amazing couple, and grateful that they have so welcomed me with open arms. They never fail to tell my husband how grateful they are for him and his family, and all that he does for them. I'm not sure how much time either one of them has left on this earth. I can't dwell on it, though. All I can do is thank God for the time He's given us with them, for they truly are treasures.
