Mothers have vast amounts of space inside their hearts and minds where they keep and ponder all of the events of a lifetime. Not only are their memories, joys, sadnesses, achievements, failures, successes, and goals harbored there, but much of the lives of their children and grandchildren also find a quiet and lasting berth. Some of us are blessed with "forever memories" that time and nature cannot take away.
Ted often says I have the memory of an elephant, and I'm not always sure that is a complement. It can be both — a blessing and a curse.
(Photograph - Brenda Cannon Henley and Ginger Bragg Doster on the old wooden dock at Pine Lake in 1959 - Forever Friends)
One remembers the "what might have beens had times been different," "the things I would have changed," "the hurts and pains of disagreements and sadness and loss," but God in His infinite wisdom balances all of these hidden thoughts with "the absolute wonder of life," "the new discoveries," "the blessed friends of a lifetime," "our families and those close enough to be if born in the same line," and "the hopes for the future."
I recently had the occasion to hear a song sung by Kenny Chesney, "A lot of things different." This song was a favorite of a dear friend from my childhood who went Home much too soon, John Barnes. He and his wife Kitty stayed in mine and Ted's home while he was undergoing serious cancer treatment at MD Anderson Hospital in Houston. We drove them around Houston, to the beach, to fly kites in the salty air, and to share the last food that they enjoyed so much. John and I never dated. We were neighbors in Pine Lake and went to Clarkston High School together. But, we were the best of friends. John always felt he had to take care of Ginger and myself and we spent many long hours hanging out and growing up. In our later years, we became even closer working on our high school graduation reunion and traveling together. John was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of friend and he was loyal and faithful to those he loved. He could be a demonic bear to those he didn't, but that was part of his great charm.
He was a very successful businessman and politician and a hard worker for his family and community. John had many honors come his way and he is lovingly remembered for the good he did.
John got to MD Anderson a little too late with way too much cancer and we lost him. John is one of those secret treasures I hold in my heart. Not a day goes by that I don't think of something "Tommy" said to me or some advice he gave me. (Note - We all called him "Tommy" in school and pretty much throughout his life, but the US Air Force and his strong wife Kitty changed it to John and we all tried to adjust, but failed). As Ted wheeled his chair into the Hobby Airport on that last visit, Tommy and I held hands and said little. What was there to be said when we both knew it was almost over? I leaned down and hugged him really tightly and he whispered some parting advice in my ear. Tears glistened in his eyes and rolled unashamedly down my cheeks in the busy airport as I gave him my word on what he had asked.
Not many days later, Ginger Bragg Doster, Millie Jones Pincus, and I drove to his beloved Florida home and met Sandy Martin Teal, Dianna Buder Suratt, and others, and buried Tommy in the sandy soil he had come to love. He had left strict instructions that "we girls" were to be treated as immediate family and sit in places of honor at all the services. I thought again of the song by Chesney, "I would have done a lot of things different." In the verses, the writer thinks back over his life and wishes had had made different choices. He would have gone to see Elvis the last time he came to town (Teresa and I did that at the Omni in Atlanta against all church rules and regulations), he would have spent more time with family and loved ones, he would have hugged his brother before he left for war, and it ends with, "If I had known that dance would have been our last one, I would have made the band play on and on and on...I would have done lots of things differently."
One cannot get caught up in the "I would haves" of life, but I'm convinced that it is OK to remember people, places, events, good times and sad times, and then move on back into the present. All of these memories can be a healthy part of what mothers put inside their hearts and minds and ponder with such clarity that at times if you listen closely, you can hear the music, smell the flowers, touch the gifts and see the smiles of old friends and family members.
I am so enjoying FaceBook after my daughter DeAnna made me join. I am in contact with so many of the dear friends of life that I have had for years and I get suck a kick out of turning on the computer, reading what they wrote, seeing their accomplishments and their activities, meeting their families, sharing in their joys (and their sorrows at times) and entertaining this feeling of reconnecting. If you are not on FaceBook, join today. I can't find much wrong about it.
Betty Pennell, my sister in law, Teresa Fowler Stancil, Joy Rice Martin, Betty Owens Moseley, Debbie Eads, old friends in the media, distant family members, John and Lydia Carpenter, college kids we helped back in the day, Jack Rounds, Dixie King, church family from years ago, Sandy Bagley, Amy Bagley, and my list goes on and on. Each of you hold a treasured place in my memory bank and you've had an impact on my life. For this, I thank you. Be safe and stay well.
Until the next page turns,
Brenda
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