The red frock ( dress)
My mother is the best. I call her every morning before 6 a.m. So we can have our daily chats. While it’s usually the mundane that we discuss, hearing her voice brings me such joy and if I dared to miss a few mornings due to work, I get attitude and an earful when the calls resume. I take it in stride because she has come to enjoy our chats too.
This morning, I’m giving her the news that three of my friends mothers transitioned which has left me with trying to navigate three funerals, as they are all on the same day.
My darling mother says ” that reminds me; I want no crying at my funeral. Please bury me in a beautiful red frock, red shoes, red undergarments and if you can find a red casket, I will take that too. Let the folks coming know they are to wear NO purple, black or white as those are funeral
Colors. Everyone should wear bright vibrant colors. I want my 4 grandchildren to be pallbearers as they are old and strong enough.”
I’m looking at the phone gasping for air and giggling because she is just stating things as she sees them with a threat that she will be most displeased if we fail to follow her orders.
So I asked, ” mommy, since you insist on having this conversation what would you like us to sing?” This mad woman chimed in ” hey! None of my girls can sing except you so please do not let the other three squawk until I sit straight up!” I laughed until tears leaked from my eyes at the thought..
What I believed would have been a sad conversation had some levity because my mother is clear, she cannot live forever and she prefers to go out on her terms. I love that about her.
I could not promise her that I wouldn’t cry but what I could do, was give her exactly what she required and I would wear a red frock to boot!
Love my momma and these daily chats are being stored for a time when I can no longer hear her physical voice..
If you are fortunate enough to still have your parents among you, love the hell out of them and forgive what you can because they won’t be with you forever..
Posted on October 23, 2014, in childhood, children, Education, family, laughter, love, Parent, Relationship, washington Post, Writing and tagged children, death, Family, mothers, planning. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.