An Anniversary

Yesterday evening at dusk my husband and I stopped by the cemetery. I wanted to replace the flowers at my mother's grave.

I had been angry with her for the last year; ridiculous, I know, since she's been dead for seven years. But in my anger I had not visited the cemetery.




I replaced the flowers on one side of the tombstone with bright plastic fall mums. The old flowers looked faded and worn; apparently no one has been there for some time. My father probably hasn't been up there since the funeral, based on comments I've heard from my sister-in-law. She used to take my nephew by regularly because he missed his Nana, but perhaps he's out grown that.

Today would have been my parents 45th wedding anniversary, if my mother had lived - and my parents had stayed married. Most likely they would have been divorced. Their divorce was four days away from being finalized when my mother passed away.

Their marriage was stormy. They married because my mother was pregnant with me, and neither ever forgave me for (a) being born and (b) not being a boy if I had to be born. My brother was born three years later.

They fought verbally and physically. Most of my memories involve tears. There must have been good, pleasant times but they have always been overshadowed by the bad. When I do remember good times, they stand out starkly in comparison to the rest, like snapshots that belong to some other family.

I did not consider theirs a happy marriage and as soon as I was old enough to understand what "divorce" meant, I wished they would get one.

It wasn't until 1995 - and I'd been (very happily) married for 12 years myself by that time - that my father left my mother for another woman. My mother had been telling me he slept around on her for many years.

Despite everything, she loved him, and each time she'd file papers he'd come back and sweet talk her, and she'd forgive him. Then he'd leave again. He never filed for divorce; I think he didn't want to make a property division. It wasn't until my mother knew she was dying that she attempted a divorce in earnest, and I honestly think that was for my benefit. She knew my father would never give me anything.

So Happy Anniversary, Mom. Dad's remarried and I still don't speak to him. You haven't sent a message to me from beyond in several years. I hope that means you're happy. I know you were never happy when you were alive.

I am sorry about that.


(The photo was taken in 2006.)