Jacky Ralph Amos

Now I know why I'm in a slump.  It's beautiful April.

Who would'a ever thought it, that APRIL of all months (not Thanksgiving, not Christmas, not New Years>>>but APRIL) with all of it's signs of a beautiful promised spring...could bring me sadness mixed with the typical joy at hearing the birds sing.  You know how I love my birds, Jacky.  I put so much money into them.  You've always (especially last spring and summer) watched with awe along with me>>my finch tree.

It's April, OUR birthday month.  Happy b'days to us both...  Time for planting>>miss you doing the digging.  I think that you've planted every tree around this place....>>MANY trees!

The old front porch shrubs born along with you have died out with last years  drought, (believe that? After 28 years, they died?>>and will get a new beginning, just like you.  Eight means new beginning, biblically.

I bought a red Jap maple to replace your Christmas tree in case it don't make it. I don't think that it will make it, but John is determined that it will.    Well, whatever, I will plant it in your honor, just not sure where.  We have no tree space left without risking the kids running over them.

We spent part of the day with you, with Haven as usual first off on a gallop to "Her" baby's grave.  As we were leaving, we spotted a truck pull up right at that tiny grave.  She rippppppped a flower from your boquet and half skipped, half halted until about half way... (The man watched her/us watching her, but then a car with two women pulled up)  Then seemed to be so hesitant that...Pa'Paw rescued her from her nervousness and walked her on down.

As we rounded them after leaving, I rolled YOUR truck window down and started to explain, but Haven<sweet Haven she is, feeling comfortable, now,  seat'belted t'wixt me and pa'paw explained it all herself>>>and then beyond, you know, as far as cleaning somebody's nasty ice'cream toss on that child's grave....

The baby's mama complimented her, and explained that her baby had been dead for three years, was backed over by a car, baby'sitter's sister.

Haven felt so....angelic?  Important?

Dunno.  I do know that she was just all smiles and felt important that she took/takes care of that eighteen'month old babe's grave.  We will surely buy a gift for that tiny grave, same as I will take my swift'jet mop after this upcoming rain and shepherd's hook plant of your grave, son.   Gah!  Yer cover got dirty spots quick!

Finally made it to see David's grave, and the pic that YOU paid for put onto his headstone.  It was awesome, and you would be content with the job.  (It's what you've always wanted, some way some how to honor him).

I will never forget David, same as I won't never forget you.  One lonnnng heck of a year on a cater from>>>"Aunt Janice?"

The Owens/Oliver boys were and still are always trained up by their own to call me by that..."AUNT".

He held so tight to me in death, same as you, Jacky, seemed to hold so tight to me in life....

Same as my Amos kids (what few left) do to this day.

Or is it me hangin' tight to you guys?

Love you, kids.  Keep alert.

I sure did miss you today.  I didn't even take my jammies off, but cooked navy bean soup with collards and corn'bread and fried tilapia just so wishing that you were here hovering over me.  Angie asked why I cooked so much.  Because I don't know how to cook a little bit when I'm in a mood, and you could eat so much.  It's okay, tho, it didn't go to waste. 

I reallllly do miss you!  I love you...love this song that Angie put on too. 

Forever for me, tomorrow for you...

Wee's birthday today, Jacky, and as usual never a gathering that you're not talked about.  We tried to make it to the cemetery to see David's pic, but it got dark on us so we turned back about halfway.  That's okay, it will give us something to do tomorrow and Haven absolutely loves cemeteries (always has>>I think because she can run totally free without me constantly frettin' about her getting off too far).  Fancy that!  I hawk her like crazy around a dozen grown'ups, but...don't even worry about her running free in a cemetery. 

I know, I know, you would say>>Mama, you've got issues!  You didn't worry about US like that!  (I would say>>different world back then, son.) 

I got home and pondered it, that Wee is twenty'eight now, and shortly you will be twenty'nine.  We celebrate birthdays because we are celebrating life.  We are remembering the births for sure, and can't help recalling the years in between each celebration.  Every year is treasured, and many moments of each year one for the memory book.  One in particular, you about seven, Wee about six>>you laying back with your arms propped behind your head and Wee laying curled with her head on your shoulder, both on a cartoon'watch.  Y'all were soooo cute!  I recall that at that moment I was wishing that I had a camera.

And why do I call her Wee when writing about her?  Well, I know that YOU know that is how she is referred to in my barn stories for YEARS, which I've not written anymore since you died.  (The stories). I know that my barn misses me.  I will get 'Bombeck' back on them someday.

Soon we will be celebrating your life, Jacky.

  Happy birthday, Wee.  Jacky, watch over her and all of your cousins.  You are at the knee of God.