MEMORIAL DAY

Chapter 1

The mile walk from the diner was the typical end to another work day. The neighborhood was quiet and relatively safe compared too much of the world in which I simply didn't allow myself to think. I couldn't grasp the concept of violence and was immune to the feelings of tragedy.

I could hear Skittles, my little Yorkie barking at my arrival. Skittles showed her usual appreciation by jumping up and down and begging for my attention. Grams brought Skittles to me as a gift on my seventh birthday. Skittles was my comfort in life.

After the routine of greeting Skittles and letting her out, we both retired to my small bedroom. She crawled in her doggy bed while I changed into my night clothes, turned on the lamp and opened my journal.

JOURNAL ENTRY: 05/23/2020 The diner was busy tonight. Tips were good and I really need the money. It's been a struggle. Grams has been gone two months now and it's different, yet not all that much different. She provided my needs and kept me safe as a child. But life goes on. AAN

I closed my journal and crawled into bed. Tomorrow was Sunday and a day off. Monday being Memorial Day, I would pull the old wreaths out of Grams' closet and do my obligatory visit to the cemetery.

I didn't know Grams until I was four. My given name was Mella Marie Andrews but Grams called me Mel. What I know about my family is based on blurred memories and Grams' renditions. My older sister Katie was two years older. I remember some events of our time together but not much. I remember my mom's face but not her voice. I have no recollection of Dad.

Chapter 2

Grams' rendition of my childhood was given to me in bits and pieces. I remember her telling me that my mom, dad and sister had been killed in a car crash. I was the only survivor. I have no recollection of the crash and very little of life before the crash.

Grams would add information as I got older even though I never ask. I didn't care. Grams had a told me she had "falling out", as she called it, with her son, (my dad), because of his drinking.

So, there you have it and here I am. Grams did her best to care for me. There was never a day I didn't know she loved me by her actions, but emotional closeness seldom existed. I was a small child. Understanding more now, Grams handled her grief in her own distant way. What I knew was my reality. My family was dead and I moved to Grams.

Sunday was a quiet day of chores. I always believed I would have to take care of myself and live meagerly all my life. Why would I trust anyone to stick around? Skittles had retired to her bed and I to my journal.

JOURNAL ENTRY: 05/24/2020 The wreaths are ready. I think it's stupid. It's not like Grams knows I'm there. She's dead. What's the point? But I knew it was Grams' tradition. She believed in some spiritual connection. I respected her beliefs and she respected mine. AAN

Chapter 3

Grams and I had a connection in her music. She was a child of the 60's and 70's and had quite a record collection from that era. Her old turn table still spun out the tunes. One night she played a record by Gilbert O'Sullivan called "Alone Again, Naturally." I didn't often feel much but that song resonated.

I had intellectually accepted the fact that my family was gone. Emotions were a different story. I didn't know how to feel so I chose not to. At fourteen, I saw a counselor who taught me to journal nightly. Counseling didn't bring any major breakthroughs but the nightly journal stuck with me.

I became content with my simple life with Grams. But after hearing the song "Alone Again, Naturally", I internalized the lyrics. It was an acceptance of my reality and since then, I ended all my journal entries with AAN; Alone again, naturally.

Tomorrow's trip to the cemetery validated in my sleepy mind that by fate, I was again alone. I fell asleep ruminating on one stanza.

"Leaving me to doubt; Talk about God in His mercy; who, if He really did exist, why did he desert me?"

I had a family and in a split second, they were gone. I had Grams and a sudden massive heart attack and she was gone. I didn't journal. I wanted to feel that spiritual connection that Grams talked about. I just couldn't. She was here, now gone.

Chapter 4

I arose early for my obligatory duty. Clouds covered the morning sun. I would lay the wreath and return home to get ready for work. I approached Grams' modest headstone and placed the wreath. Just as I laid the wreath, the sun broke through the morning clouds and reflected something gold colored in tall grass just feet from the wreath. Further investigation revealed a small book embossed with gold printing, LITTLE BLACK BOOK.

Who left a book there? Was it dropped by accident? I picked the book up and opened it. On the inside cover was written, "Mel, this book is for you. Scan my notes if you like but READ THE LAST PAGE AND RETURN IT IN TWO DAYS" The handwriting was definitely Grams'.

Return the book to whom? Why two days? Had not the sun broken through to reflect the gold, I wouldn't have noticed the book. As I pondered these mysteries, I couldn't help but turn to the back page. It contained a simple message. "Call Mr. Brown first thing tomorrow morning." Mr. Brown's number was written at the bottom.

As I walked away from the grave site, another of Grams' old songs rang in my head. Not one of my favorites but she loved it. "You light up my life; you give me hope to carry on; you light up my days and fill my nights with song." Debbie Boone version. I felt the warmth of the sun. I felt moved.

I had emotions that I had always been able to shove aside. I missed Grams in a different way now. It was as if she were there, but she wasn't. As badly as I needed the money, I missed work. Night fell and Skittles curled in her bed and I grabbed my journal.

JOURNAL ENTRY: 05/25/2020 I'm having feelings. Not something I'm used to. Who is Mr. Brown? Till tomorrow I guess. LUML

P.S. Why did I just close with LUML and not AAN. Sub-conscience? "Light up my life?"

Chapter 5

I awoke at 7 a.m. anxious to try Mr. Brown around 8 a.m. I called the number soon after 8 a.m. and a male voice answered, "Trust Department. Chris Brown speaking." Trust department?" I timidly said, "This is Mella Andrew. I have a message to call you." He responded, "Yes, Ms. Andrew, I have financial information we need to discuss. Your Grand Mother Andrew received a sum of money from the accident that took your family. She set aside a Trust Account for you. The total amount of the account is $20,000. If you'd like to come tomorrow morning, we can sign the paperwork necessary and get it in appropriate accounts for you."

What do I say? I couldn't comprehend. I thanked Mr. Brown and arranged to meet him the following morning. Money had never been important to me. We had always survived. I didn't know how to live with money. With those thoughts spinning in my head I remembered tomorrow was also the day to return the book.

JOURNAL ENTRY: 05/26/2020 Am I rich? I don't know how much money that is. Of course I'm happy about it. But the difference in the feelings I've been having seem more powerful than the money. LUML

Chapter 6

Mr. Brown advised me to set up a checking account, a savings account and retirement account. I took his advise as this was all new to me. The thought of not having to stress to pay the bills hadn't really sunk in.

After all the financial matters were complete, Mr. Brown said, "Mel, your Grand Mother also left a note for me to give you. He handed me the note and I set quietly and read it. "Mel, I gave you what I could during our time together. I didn't know how to give you all you needed. I am glad you'll have some financial comfort. But my dying wish was that you find the ability to trust and reveal the loving spirit within you. PLEASE return the book now to where you found it." Love Grams

Spirit within? I had already experienced some feelings that had caused some real discomfort for me but at the same time provided comfort. I thought the emotion of love had been ripped away from me forever as a child. Following instructions, I went to the cemetery to return the book. Why? So it could lay there and rot in the weather? But that was Grams' request and I would honor it.

As I laid the little black book in the exact spot I found it, I noticed a young man a couple of rows over carrying an armful of wreaths. As we walked toward the gate, we made eye contact. With a smile, he said, "Hi, I'm Greg. I'm gathering the wreaths I leave every year on my families' grave sites. When I was four, we were in a horrible car crash. I was the only survivor."

All I could think of was to say, "I'm so sorry. I kind of know what that feels like." His smile broadened and he responded, "Sounds like we should talk. There's a bench by the gate. Shall we visit for a minute?" I said, "Sure, but I have to do something first." He said, "I'll wait." I had a sudden urge to run grab the book. I returned to the grave site but to my dismay, the book was gone.

Chapter 7

Walking back to the bench where Greg was waiting, the song "You Light Up My Life" was stirring in my head. I walked to the bench where Greg was sitting and we talked. We talked for two hours that day and many more hours over many years to come. We'll never forget the first meeting on the cemetery bench but our favorite bench today is one overlooking the ocean near the home we bought.

The money helped us start our life but the ability to love and be loved sustained us. I knew what Grams meant now by "the spirit within." And every living moment Greg and I shared, Grams was with us.

What happened to the little black book? It had served its' purpose and I had found mine.