Life After Life
In 1979, I was what I considered a middle-class American housewife living in Lubbock, Texas. I was married and had two children: a boy, 6, and a girl,11. I was a member of an Episcopal Church, president of the women of the church, secretary of the diocese and Camp Fire leader for my daughter's troop. I appeared to be happily married. My husband was a firefighter and had an automotive garage where he worked on his days off from the fire department. He worked approximately 100 hours a week. My parents lived near me and I checked on my Mother daily and went by to do her hair twice a week. My father and I have never been close. I
called my Dad when I took her to the hospital. My father believed she was having an allergic reaction to something and did not respond to my call for help. During the next week, she had two heart attacks and died on March 9, 1979.
The day of my Mother's funeral, my father insisted that my sister-in-law and I clear out my mother's personal belongings. His sisters were in town for the funeral and he wanted them to have my Mother's clothes. When we reached the bottom of her lingerie drawer, there was a long-stemmed red rose that I had sent her years before on my birthday. The rose, the vase and the card were wrapped in a great deal of aluminum foil to protect them and a card was attached to the outside in her handwriting that read, "Receiving this rose fulfilled a lifetime fantasy."
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