An Uneaten Slice of Coconut Cake

My daughter and I were riding home from work together on Wednesday evening, and as we passed the new Ukrops Market Hall at the corner of Horsepen and Patterson you could smell the famous fried taters they make, and she asked if we could stop there as she had never been. I pulled into the parking lot, and we went in. We looked around for a few minutes, and as I passed by the cakes I noticed that they had Coconut cakes by the slice. Coconut Cake has always been one of my mom's favorites. When I visit her in the nursing home, I always try to take her a treat, something she loves, a baked potato with all the fixin's, a milkshake, ice cream, my carrot cake (which she has apparently shared about with several of the nurses) and a good Hanover Tomato sandwich. I was able to take her all those things at one time or another, but never Ukrops Coconut Cake because I was never able to find it by the slice. I was thrilled and grabbed a slice to take with me on my visit Friday. Thursday afternoon, yesterday, around 2:45 pm, I got the call that my mother had passed. She had been in Hospice Care for some time - shoutout here to Heartland Hospice! They were amazing! - and in the past 2 weeks she had definitely declined, and I wanted her to cross over as I knew she would be at peace, but it was still a shock. It's funny the little things that we think about when we grieve. I thought about the fact that she didn't get her slice of coconut cake. It is sitting in the fridge on the shelf, and she didn't get it. She wasn't expecting it. It was just something I saw and picked up because I knew she would love it. I am sure I will have that same thought again when I am out or when I make Carrot cake this Thanksgiving or even next summer when Hanover tomatoes are at their ripest that I should take mom this sandwich or slice of cake, she would love this and then realize she is not there to take anything to....I know I just ended the sentence with a preposition, but today is not about grammar. The point is, we are not guaranteed time with anyone. We will all die someday, that is a fact, we just don't know when. I know it's cliché, but make the most of your time for yourself and the people you love. Like all mothers and daughters we had our issues, but in these last 2 years as roles have been reversed, I have had the time to be with her without all the mess of the world. I would just visit and talk. We'd laugh about Andy Griffith or The Golden Girls or she'd ask me questions about what was going on as we sat there and watched Toy Story, or I'd mock the ridiculous, predictable plot of a Hallmark Channel movie, and she'd laugh. I loved my mom, and I know that she knew that. In fact it's the last thing she said to me when I left her room last Sunday afternoon, and they were also the last words she heard from me. I really can't ask for more than that. I am so glad she is at peace and with my dad, and her parents, and best friend and loving pets, but I know I will never pass by coconut cake again and not think of her, and the uneaten slice in the fridge.

It's My Daddy's Birthday

Today, my daddy would have turned 81. He has been gone almost 9 years, and at the typing of this my eyes are welling with tears. I was definitely a daddy's girl, and I think I will always miss him. Lately I have been thinkning about him a lot. He was a staunch Republican, for one. I grew up in a house that believed Nixon was railroaded. I'm serious, but I think even Daddy would scratch his head at this year's Republican nominee. Daddy might even, dare I say it, vote Democrat this year. Politics was not the only thing where my father and I differed in opinion, but I could always count on him to tell the truth, something rare these days. I especially miss being able to ask him for advice. Although he dropped out of high school, he knew something about everything. He could tell you anything about cars. He knew if he was getting a good deal, and if he was being rooked. He tinkered a lot and could fix most anything.
He would be fiercely proud of his granddaughters. He would have cried a river watching Leah graduate from college this past May, and shed just as many tears listening to Georgi's angelic voice singing some of his favorite Simon and Garfunkel songs. I love that she discovered them on her own, and loves their music just as much as my dad did.
I guess what I loved the most is that I know my daddy loved me. With all the hurt and brokenness in the world, I realize more and more each day how lucky I was. With all of our disagreements, I KNEW I could count on him for anything. He believed in me and supported me without me having to ask for a thing. He wasn't perfect. No one is, but I wouldn't have traded with anyone. I miss you, Daddy! Happy Birthday!

What Rhymes With Duck?

Seventy-five, the diamond jubilee, 3/4 of a century, milestone. Today the number 75 belongs to my mom. She was born on this day in 1939. I often joke that I can remember my mother's age because she was born the same year that "The Wizard of Oz" (my all time favorite movie) and "Gone with the Wind" were released. What stellar films to share your birth year with, but I digress. My mother was born Peggy Anne Meintel to Margaret Chapman Oliver and Alfred John Meintel. She was their second child having an older brother, Alfred John Meintel, Jr. She grew up in Canton, OH but moved here to Richmond, VA, in her tween years to stay with my aunt as her mother was having major surgery. She would tell me stories when I was little about how she was scared to tell anyone who she was at school because her name, Meintel, was clearly German, and Germans weren't the most popular in America in the early 1940's. My mom was a teenager right smack dab in the middle of the 1950's, a decade my generation glamorized with musicals like "Grease" and the television show, Happy Days. From the pictures I have seen of my mom at that time, I fancy her a bit of a rebel. She didn't have the high pony tail like every other girl, she had a ducktail. She went away to school for her Junior and Senior year to PEACE college in Raleigh, NC. All the pictures I've seen of her, she was a beauty, and still is for that matter. Fast forward a bit. In the late 50's she was working for a company called National Cash Register or NCR for short, and one of the cash register repairmen fell for her. That man was my dad, Ralph Jackson Moore. In 1960 they were married, and that proved to be no easy task as they had both had previous marriages and many pastors refused to marry them. What a difference 54 years make, huh? In two years they had my sister, Jenna, and I came along on Halloween day in 1963.
So, if you ask my sister, she thinks I'm a freak because I remember things in major detail, sometimes down to what I'm wearing. I remember a lot of things about my mom from my very early childhood, as early as age 3. I remember driving down to Florida in our brown station wagon, me and my sister laying down and sleeping in the back as we left mega early in the morning. We stopped at some restaurant to have breakfast, and I have a memory clear as day of my mother sitting me on the back of the open tailgate of the station wagon changing me from my pajamas into a Peanuts White sweatshirt, a pair of dungarees, as she called them, translation: blue jeans, and a sailor hat with the brim turned down. I remember her always having spiced apple rings at Christmas dinner because I liked those. She sang to me a lot when I was little. The song that really stands out to me, oddly, is Here Comes Santa Claus. She always put the tree up and decorated it on Christmas Eve, and she was a great cook! We spent most weekends with my grandparents, and I can remember coming home on Sunday nights and taking in the smells that were wafting out of the kitchen of whatever she had cooked for her and my dad. My favorite? Hamburgers, gravy and rice. I had those leftovers many a Monday morning for breakfast. One of my absolute favorite memories involving me and my mom is, ironically, not the best situation for me, but it's one of those, we'll look back on this and laugh one day kind of memories. I was about 7 years old, and my mom, my sister and I, were shopping at the A&P, a grocery store in our neighborhood. We were coming down the dairy aisle, and I asked Mom if she would buy me some canned whipped cream. She said no. I trailed along behind my mother and sister making up my own cuss words. Now, I must insert here that my family did not use cuss words, I had only heard the occasional damn, and my mother's personal favorite when things weren't going right, hell's bells, but none of the biggies! I decided this day to make up words that rhymed with duck. You see where this is going, right? "Duck! Muck! F**k!" My mother wheeled around so fast, and I knew from the look on her face that I was in big trouble, but I had no idea what I'd done. Of course her first inclination was to ask, "What did you say?" So, of course, I repeated it right there in the aisle of the A&P right next to the Hostess snack cakes. I don't remember a whole lot immediately after that, but I do remember when my dad got home, my mom had to write the word down to tell my father what I had said. They swore I heard it from someone, but I truly had just picked the wrong letter combination.
In spite of my raucous language, my mother decided to keep me around, and we had many, many years of great memories. She has been there for me in some of the most difficult times in my life. She was the best Grandma my girls could ever have, and there are too many valuable things to name that she has taught me, and I will forever be grateful. Happy Birthday, Mom! Have a duckin' great day!

No More Babies

Today is bittersweet for me. It marks the day that I officially have no more "children." My youngest girl becomes a legal adult today as she turns 18 at 8:16 this morning. I cannot believe that 18 years have passed since I traveled to Henrico Doctors Hospital very early on a snowy Thursday morning for a planned C-section due to the fact that the delivery of her older sister 3 1/2 years prior had not been an easy one. She received one arrangement of yellow roses and a balloon and almost no visitors as  the blizzard of 1996 had hit. The yellow roses came from my sweet Daddy. In fact the name on the floral card decided how we would spell her name. Her name is Georgia, but we call her Georgi. Most people spell it with an "e" on the end, but as the story goes, when the clerk at the florist asked my father how to spell her name, he didn't know. She suggested that leaving off the "e" had a lot of personality and flair, and that is the way it has always been. It could not suit her more perfectly. She has tons of personality and fabulous flair. She is talented and entertaining, and she keeps all of us in stitches with all of her different characters and voices. I often think how much my father would love her humor, and I can hear him laughing and see his smile.
She is a true beauty inside and out! I look at her in awe, and sometimes cannot believe that I created her. She has dealt with adversity all of her life as we became a single parent household when her father left us just after she turned 2. She has never known anything but financial struggle, but you would never know it. She is giving and kind and compassionate, and she has never used the adversity as an excuse to behave badly or whine or fail. She has taught me more than I could ever have imagined, and I treasure her insight and her unique view of the world. She has opened my eyes to things that I never would have seen. I often say that we are the same person, and in many ways we are, but at 18, she is already a better person than I would have ever dreamed of becoming when I was her age.
People say you fall in love with a child as soon as they are placed in your arms. I don't know if it was that way for me, but every day has been an adventure. We have had our ups and downs, mostly ups, but my love grows deeper and deeper as the years pass, and I didn't think it would be possible for my love to be any bigger, but it just keeps evolving as we walk our journey together as Mother and daughter and more importantly best friends. My sweet, sweet, girl, I cannot wait to see how you tackle the world! But always know that I will be right here by your side not to hover but to be here if you need me. Happy, happy birthday! I am so blessed to have you in my life! All my love to you today and always!