Rest Well, Virginia Rose

And today marks the vigintennial of your demise, Dear Mother.

Red Shoes are Better than Bacon

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17 years ago today, you left this plane, and 16 years ago on this date, your ashes found a final resting place at Lago de Zirahuén. Well, half of them did.

Remember that silver cigarette box you’d swiped from me the fall before you died? We filled it with your ashes, and what that wouldn’t hold went into a satin pouch. I took the cigarette box down to the lake. As I was negotiating the price of a launch, I broke down in tears, two bystanders immediately caught on to my plans, intervened with the boatman, and they ended up joining me as we headed toward Agua Verde. Damned if we couldn’t open up that box, which the heat of your ashes and scotch tape had hermetically sealed, and even though the thought did enter my mind to toss the entire box into the lake, I just couldn’t do that…

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This entry was posted in Mexico.

4 comments on “Rest Well, Virginia Rose

  1. estre68132 says:

    Very nice! I’ve enjoyed your writings about her before. They remind me that no matter who we are or how we interact with our daughters there are always planes on which we grate. It helps me in my sometimes perfect, but most often not so much, with my own three!!!

    Have you seen Maureen lately?

    hugs,

    m

    Mary K. Villalba AZTEC Communications, LLC 303-290-8415 Tele Past Distinguished Governor Rocky Mountain District Kiwanis International “A global organization of volunteers, dedicated to improving the world, one child and one community at a time.”

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  2. That your mother played the xylophone, or whatever that instrument is properly called, comes as no surprise. Here’s to the memories.

    My mother was named Virginia too. How about that? She did not play the xylophone.

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  3. […] The inimitable Jennifer Rose recently noted the 20th anniversary of her mother’s death. This got me to thinking about my father, which led to the above. I wrote about my mother after she […]

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  4. tancho says:

    The first thing I thought of when I saw the picture again was my mom at the ironing board. She was just a devoted immigrant housewife that turned out two good kids and was unselfish her whole life.
    I can certainly see where some genes where delivered to you based on your outlook and free spirtititsus. ( new word )
    I certainly remember a lot of our growing up and enjoy recalling the good along with the not so good.

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