Aunt Kay's Mass
Kay's daughters asked us to wear red in celebration of her joy.
Kay lived as a servant to God, a loving wife and mother.
A woman who shared laughter. Red was her favorite color...
My Mother is ninety this year.
We embarked upon the cross country trip for the funeral.
American Airlines lost her walker in the first leg. It appears there is no longer
assistance for the disabled. With connecting flights to Harrisburg and
forty four minutes to run in the terminal with the bag of rocks mom packed,
it's a miracle we made it. I perfected the habit of stealing idle Delta Airlines
wheelchairs. The contract employees who work assistance in airports are called
by walkie talkie from the gate guards. They don't care to communicate.
(Delta abandons their wheelchairs in American terminals, yet another layer of
how America is terminally disorganized.)
Imagine me running, pushing the wheelchair with my tiny Mom gesturing with
arthritic deviation for the crowd to part. The noise of me carrying one bag
while two behind clatter and bang like cow bells. Suitcases swinging.
With a sweat we made the connecting flight.
The funeral mass was upbeat. Reuniting with cousins on the east coast
was the highlight. While masked you notice how eyes smile as crinkles
of monarch butterflies lifting from the corners.
The next day I took my Mom to Wildwood Park to enjoy the birds and fall leaves.
In front of the nature center a thoughtful person planted a row of winterberry
bushes perhaps more than fifteen years ago. They sang in the sunshine while
yellow wings floated to the ground. I'm sharing the glow of crimson with you.
Aunt Kay prays for you from heaven with this warmth.
Winterberry is in the genus of ilex, or holly. Ruby jewels for the
scarlet tanagers delight.
