Vicky’s Story

Site created on November 8, 2019

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Journal entry by Allison Cowley

It has been almost a week since mom's memorial service.  5 days to be exact.  I'm not sure about everyone else, but I don't think it would matter if it has been a week, month, or even a year, there is a void that will never be filled. 

I was with my dad last night helping him go through cards while watching MASH, then The Andy Griffith Show, and finally Gomer Pyle.  Dad always laughs during MASH, but then comments on how stupid the other 2 shows are (but never changes the channel, that would just be silly!) I'm thankful for these moments, especially knowing how fast they can be taken away.  As we continued to open, read, and sort cards, envelopes were placed in a recycle bag while stacks of cards got higher and higher.  Dad made a comment about the basket of cards in the basement from when mom was sick.  All of these cards, every single piece of paper, represent the eminence amount of kindness, love, and support given so freely.  My family, especially my mom, are so blessed.

The service was just as mom wanted.  A huge gathering of people from all walks of life, music, laughter, heartfelt story telling, lemon bars, cherry bars, and much more.  Oh lord, don't forget the pictures!!!  I hope everyone took time to look at those!  My favorite was the one with my mom and dad, full on early 70's.  Dad with no shirt holding a cat and mom's wearing tinted glasses that covered the majority of her face.   

I don't think there are enough words to express the gratitude and appreciation for all you have done.  On behalf of my dad, sister, brother, the grandchildren, aunts, uncles, cousins...... I could continue, but the truth is, the most important person to thank, is my mom.  We need to be thankful for every moment, every laugh, hug, sarcastic comment, note sung, bit of food prepared, invitation, phone call.....there is an infinite list.  My hope is you take your most favorite memory, hold it close, think of it often and, as she would want, take the road less traveled, it can make all the difference.
                                               The Road Not Taken
 

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves, no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

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