In Memorium

"Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord; even so saith the Sprit; for they rest from their labors."

For years I have placed flowers in the church on the first Sunday in September in memory of my brother, Benjamin. Some years this Sunday falls on his birthday and on others it is close, as this year, when it is three days past his birthday. When Daddy died, he was added to the list, and then this year, Mother.

I remember Benjamin as forever young, with a wicked sense of humor and a contagious grin. Daddy was a stern but loving father who thought I could do no wrong. Although he was not a demonstrative person, he grabbed me and hugged me when I got off the plane in 1957 when I came home from Washington for the first time for Christmas. Mother always favored her boys, but was there for me when it counted. I remember one year when she gathered yards and yards of ruffles by hand to make me a piano recital dress to die for and during the last years of her life we became closer than ever.

So today when the prayers for the departed were offered in church, with the three of them mentioned by name, it was a bittersweet moment for me but happy memories far outweigh the sad ones.