"I've learned the good-byes will always hurt, pictures will never replace having been there,memories good and bad will bring tears..."

I was sitting around missing my mom this morning when I heard the news that Ted Kennedy died of brain cancer. Though I was never a supporter or admirer of Kennedy, my heart went out to his family because brain cancer is devastating. My mom's cancer moved to her brain at one point during the last year of her life, and it was a difficult road.

It got me thinking about the moments in your life that you can remember clearly, even as the years go by. My first vivid memory is of the day JFK died. I was only a toddler, but I can picture the scene in my mind. When I first told my mom that I remembered that morning, she assured me that I couldn't have...until I described to her exactly what she was doing...and she agreed that it was indeed correct. I remember sitting in our den, "helping" her mop the floor. The TV was on..black and white....and mom was crying. I think this is one reason that it stuck out in mind. Mom was never a crier. In fact, this is the only time I can ever remember seeing her cry until my dad died.

The next clear memory I have is practicing for swim team. Every summer morning of my young life was spent at the pool from 7 to 10. I remember cold water, coaches shouting instructions...and lying on the warm pavement during breaks to get warm. I also remember hitting the snack bar with my friends after practice...starving after 3 hours of "torture".

One of my happiest memories is of times spent at my grandmother's house. In our southern family, she was called "Mammaw". I wasn't especially close to Mammaw...she had 8 children and loads of grandchildren, so there wasn't really time for a lot of one-on-one bonding, but we enjoyed a simpatico relationship. She was quiet and hard-working. She married as a teenager, had several children, and then lost her first husband. I don't remember exactly what her jobs were, but I know she worked for the government, ran a shop...and mothered 8 kids. She was also a fantastic cook...not in the "I watch Food Network and try those recipes from time to time" way....but in a "I cook 3 meals a day for 11 people" sort of way. I can still taste her 7 layer cake, her coconut pie, her marinated carrots, and her fried chicken and biscuits. I loved to help her in the kitchen...we didn't talk...I just watched her and did what she asked. My grandfather (Pappaw) was a bee-keeper, so we always had fresh honey to go with everything. (That is another vivid memory...watching Pappaw dress up like a space man and go out to "tend the bees.)
After "supper" at Mammaw's, my brothers and cousins and I would head outside to catch fireflies in jars. Her house was at the base of the Smoky Mountains...and a little river ran behind it. Even at a young age, the beauty of this area was not lost on me. I can remember staring at the mountains and thinking how pretty they were. My older brother would take a canoe across the river to the "caves" and explore. I was never allowed to do this, but I didn't want to, as I had heard stories of bats in the caves (probably made up by my brother). My little brother and I were allowed to walk into town with 50 cents and buy an ice cream at the Tasty Freeze. This was a nightly routine...usually after several hours of night-tag or whiffle ball.

Those were very innocent days. It was truly another time. No computers, internet or facebook. When you finished eating, you headed outside to play. The games weren't bought...just made-up. I hate to be one of those people who say "good old days", but they truly were good days...and I guess they were old days.

With my mom and dad gone now, I am sadly reminded on many occasions that it is up to me to provide my kids with "memories"....and I don't mean posed memories...but genuine memories where you look back and smile...and actually feel, smell, touch and taste the past. I hope that I am able to give them a bit of that...because on days like today, when you are missing your mom....memories are really important...

So until tomorrow, when I will remember the "good old days", but also try and remember that these will be the "good old days" to my kids...