In Memoriam
My mother died too soon, leaving me at the end of 7th
grade and my sister pregnant with her first child. Fortunately, she left us a
stand-in: her best friend and younger sister, Andrea. Andy herself had been
orphaned at 16, just as she began her Senior year at Sidwell Friends. She and
her husband Roger folded us into their crew of six children and, in due course, became beloved grandparents to our kids.
When Roger died, Andy, then in her late 70’s, set about
restructuring her life. At 80, she discovered a new passion and talent: poetry.
It gave her great joy. And to her surprise, she went on to win recognitions.
Her poetry, her kids, grandkids, great-grandkids, her church, her friends, her books,
leading various volunteer activities, teaching courses in William and Mary’s
program for Senior Citizens filled her last decade. Until a few months ago when
the ovarian cancer she had had for over 2 years began relentlessly to sap her
strength, it was hard to connect to Andy with a phone call. She was never home.
After 9:30 pm was your best bet.
Two weeks ago,
I spent the weekend in Williamsburg with Andy. She called and told me she
needed company and I was happy to oblige.. Except for the round the clock
presence of a nurse’s aide, it was a pretty typical visit. Andy wanted to know
exactly how and what each of us was doing, since last we’d talked, and in turn
updated me on various family members. We talked about current events, politics,
family history, and the class she planned to teach on the journals of Anne
Morrow Lindbergh. As always, her stories made me laugh. We spent 3 hours
straight looking at family pictures. Driving home, I thought about how
fortunate I was to have Andy as a surrogate parent and dearest friend and the
immensity of the hole in my life her death would leave.
And so it has.
Andy’s poems were inspired by many things. This one flowed
from scripture:
REGRETS
Lamentations
3:22-23 It is of the Lord's
mercies that we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not. They are
new every morning:
Words
spoken in haste.
The word
not spoken.
All we
wished erased.
Promises
broken
Faith we
betrayed
Love
unexpressed
Commitment
never made
Kind acts
repressed,
Vanish
when the light
of Love
dawns afresh
upon the
heart’s blight.
We are
morning blessed.
Andrea Christensen Rawson
