I think as we age, we begin to truly learn what lonesome is really all about. We have lived enough years to have enjoyed and remembered moments from the family we had when we were growing up. And, then we have special memories made during the time we enjoyed as grownups, our new family, our spouse, our kids, our grandchildren. Later in life, when the kids have grown up we are given time to think. We suddenly have a lot of time to think, maybe a little too much time to think. That can be where that lonesome sets in. For example, I remember this as though it were yesterday.
Christmas Eve and Christmas Day was always a big time at my Grandmother’s house. When I stayed with her during this holiday season, we worked like everything to get the house ready for company, making sure the yard was in perfect shape, and lining up food and kitchen help.
Christmas Eve day was spent welcoming family travelers to town from all parts of the state. Since most families lived on ranches and did not come to town often, it was a real treat when the opportunity came to gather and visit. They would come and go during the day, and would be extended an invitation to return for the hot tamale supper that evening. Before the supper time bell, someone would be designated to drive my Grandmother around town as she delivered dozens of hot tamales to friends. Of course, everyone welcomed her and had a good story for her, so this endeavor always took all afternoon. The hot tamale supper was more of a come and go sort of thing. It was almost a warm-up for the big day…Christmas Day.
At noon on Christmas day, we are all gathered around the dinner table, talking, laughing and carrying on like there are no cares in the world.
My Grandmother is standing in the kitchen watching everyone to make sure there was enough food on that table for all my aunts, uncles, cousins, Mother and Dad, brother and sister. It was a big crowd. The table had been stretched out way beyond, and we had to scramble for some lumber to put in the middle. Some of it didn’t fit just right, however, my Grandmother said it would do. She rearranged some of it, put down a pad to cover the table and then a nice starched white table cloth went over all that. It will be all right, she said. We can put some things in the middle to dress it up and no one will ever know the boards don’t fit. She was so right. Those boards were never mentioned as we renewed relationships with our family members that we haven’t seen in quiet some time. We were all delighting in their new escapades. And with this family, there were plenty of escapades.
There was special china brought out for this meal, and some of the relatives wanted to know how my Grandmother got so rich she could afford such luxuries. I remember seeing her blush a bit over that remark, and I remember hearing her say she was rich in more ways than one.
What a delicious meal this was. Loving hands prepared it and every single one enjoyed it.
After such a nice meal, everyone kind of settled into groups…young ones in the side yard playing some games, older folks on the front porch catching up, and some stayed inside that old house to help finish up with clearing the table and taking care of those precious dishes. My Grandmother was the only one allowed to wash those dishes.
Some of the older youngsters badgered my Grandmother into playing the piano. The living room was crowded with folks, she finally said she would try a number or two. My Grandmother let loose with ragtime, and old saloon tunes much to the surprise of some of the in-laws. She could roll her hands on that piano to make some of the quickest, brightest music ever. The in-laws had no idea of my family’s past history or of my Grandmother’s real education.
I tried to split my time listening to the piano, playing football in the side yard, and sitting next to my uncles to listen to their stories of the day. I tried to get one of my uncles to talk to me about his time as a soldier in world war two. He told me he was not sure I would ever be old enough to hear about those stories. His brothers asked (apparently on my behalf), and he told them they were not old enough, either.
Eventually, everyone had their ways to go. Some went back to the ranch, some to visit their in-laws, and some to travel to their homes in other cities. My Grandmother’s house became quiet, really quiet.
As I thought myself becoming of age, my Grandmother decided it was time to invite me to her tea. Her father was from England, and she took tea at ten am and four pm.
My first time at tea with my Grandmother was the day after Christmas. Goodness, I can still remember the taste of that tea to this very day. Of course, we must talk. That is what one does at tea, right? I ask my Grandmother how she dealt with everyone being in her house one day, and the next day, everyone was gone. It was so quiet. She told me that was why we must stay busy. Yes, we will get up at five am for chores, take a rest at ten for tea, back to chores till lunch (which was usually early afternoon), rest after lunch then back to chores, break at four pm for tea, finish chores and enjoy the day. And that is exactly what we did. She kept the lonelies away by keeping occupied with routine chores.
At the end of the day, she would start receiving friends and neighbors who stopped by for a cup of coffee and to either catch up on the goings on, or to tell about the goings on.
This routine went on and on. I would go to school, come home to help with chores, and get homework done while she visited.
All of a sudden, I find myself grown, family of my own, and yearning to establish the way my Grandmother taught me to establish. My brother remained somewhat distant during that time. My sister lived in another state, and we hardly saw her. My mother and father worked day in and day out. While we enjoyed the occasional Sunday dinners, a few hunting, and fishing trips, it was as though we were trying to get to the closeness my Grandmother’s family had.
We all hope to instill in our children that yearning for that family life, and hope they will carry it forward.
All of my dad’s family is gone. My Grandmother, aunts, uncles, all but one cousin are all gone. My Mother, My Dad, brother, sister, they are all gone. What is one to do now? We look forward to seeing our children set up shop and get that family put together.
And we will have time on our hands to reflect, to remember what was and what will never be again. Now we have the opportunity to learn what lonesome is really about. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone but, you have to wonder sometimes that maybe dementia and Alzheimer’s disease could be a blessing for those suffering lonesome. I know those left behind suffer a great deal, but it may be a relief for those to not remember, to not be lonesome.
All of this is something you never get over; it is something you just get through.
short stories 