Living On

Our death is not an end if we can live on in our children and the younger generation. For they are us, our bodies are only wilted leaves on the tree of life. ~Albert Einstein

Nephew Manny Chavez introduces his son, Alexander. Manny used to play "ride the cow" on my back. I can't wait to show his son the picture of his dad with the HUGE sombrero when we went to Mexico. Or to tell his son how much love his father put into the music for Mom's Memorial. Everything from "Ave Maria" to "Cielito Lindo" the "ay, ay, ay" song mom sang out whenever her daughters needed to be quiet.
Much of mi familia (L-R) Kenneth Plunk, Vicki Chavez, Anka Sepulveda, Me (in blue), Gina Chavez, Manny Chavez with Alexander and Trevor Plunk.

Gerry turned these mini-urns for family members.

The main wood is a plank of the maple table where family court in my parent's dining room was held. For forty years, the Early American table was witness to every important family gathering. On its thick surface is where we set our elbows and said our prayers; where my dad carved the turkey on Thanksgiving (my husband and Gina's ex always placed side bets on how long before the ever-present cigarette in my dad's mouth would drop its first ash). It is where my then boyfriend asked my dad's permission to become my husband.

The table moved to assisted living; heard every word my mom and I shared in privacy. It was a companion trusted with our secrets.

Top photo of my garden by Gene Sasse.