Today would have been my parent’s 59th wedding anniversary.

Last year, on this day, they went together to the funeral home they chose to use. They had had burial plots for many years, but had made no other arrangements. And, so they spent part of the day of their last anniversary deciding on their caskets, and markers, and other such arrangements. Mom called me late in the afternoon and said, “Guess what I got for my anniversary?” I expected her to say another diamond…for her ears, or her fingers, or her neck. So when she said they had bought caskets, I was taken aback. I said, “Why in the world did y’all do that?” And, she said, “Well, we’re going to need them one day and when we do, the decisions will already be made.” She then went on to tell me that the one she choose had a soft pink lining, and she wanted to wear a deep rose colored dress and jacket that she had. She told me that it was hanging at the very end of her bedroom closet. I remember saying to her, “Well, we don’t need to be thinking about all that now.” Five days later, she died.

I still miss her terribly. Joy still misses her terribly. The grandchildren miss her terribly. All the rest of the family misses her terribly. But, Pop misses her, too. And, in a different way than I do. He misses the love of his life. He misses the woman he spent 58 years with, and raised two daughters with. He misses the woman who he travelled the world with. He misses the talks they had. He misses the missions work they did together in South America. He misses the Bible reading and prayer time they had together each morning. He misses sitting in church with her….right side, third row back. He misses helping her plant her flowers, getting the dirt in to the pots…and then watering them when she did not feel up to it. He misses getting her meds together and putting them out beside her plate every morning, and bringing them to her every night. He misses taking her car and filling the gas tank for her. He misses visiting others who were sick or sad or lonely with her. He misses her pound cakes. He misses her fixing his hair in the back where it doesn’t want to lay flat. He misses her delicious meals. He misses covering her up when she lay down on the couch next to his for their naps. He misses answering her call when she needed him during the night. He misses watching her sleep. He misses her.




  1. It's hard to believe it's already been almost a year. I know from experience, you get better, but you never get "over" losing someone you love. Some days the pain is raw, others just a dull ache. Sending prayers for all of your family over the next few days.

  2. Your dad misses your mom like my mom misses my dad. When you have been together that long it's like missing a piece of yourself.

  3. What a beautiful post! I know you and your dad miss your sweet mother. Thinking of you this week and in the next few difficult days.

  4. ((HUGS)) It must give you a little peace knowing that she liked what she had picked out for herself. I am saying this with tears in my eyes because I know how much you miss her.

    The reason I say this is because I try to talk with my children about these things. I don’t mean to dwell on bad things but I would love to know their wishes. I know mine.

  5. I left comments on a few posts but they didn't go through. It was weird. I have read all of them just so you know. So I came back here to tell you.

    I had said that it should give you some comfort to know that she picked out things that she liked for her funeral. Obviously not knowing it would be so soon.

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