Today I meant a woman by the name of Ms. Finley . This woman is about eighty-five years old and lives in a house that was built about hundred and fifty years ago. Her daughter had tastefully decorated her mother's home for Christmas. The house is so well done that many people (including my great-grandmother) request to tour her house. There are no words to describe to you this house. Its gorgeous. I felt as if I was underdressed and I needed to run home and get my ball gown. But alas I am getting off topic. Each room of the house has many Christmas decorations, with each decoration having each own story. Some stories were simple, such the Wal-Mart find of Santa singing and dancing in the bathtub (who knew old folks had such a sense of humor), others were more sentimental, such as with the Lucinda doll that had been given to her by an old friend. In my opinion the funniest story was about the Christmas decoration she had out that was given to her by her ex-husband. After 25 years of marriage the two got a divorce. Then he preceded to built a smaller replica of the house the two of them had live together right across the street. The best part of the story was how the current wife had kicked him out to wander the streets. (OK don’t get me wrong I don't think that someone wandering the streets is funny but if you had heard this lady tell this story you would have laughed too.)
Although the story that grabbed me the most was the story I heard in the dinning room. Now the dinning room was the room of angel, literally. Everywhere you looked in this room you could see angels. They were above the fireplace, the dinning room table and in the window still, you get the idea. The tree in the room only held silver ornaments and the curtain like decorations were all done in silver. As we looked at the angels Ms. Finley told us of her own angel. Five month old Annie. She told us how Annie had on her only Christmas seem to admire the angels. How her bright blue eyes had light up with admiration as she looked at the angels. Ms. Findley then proceed to tell us how the day after Christmas Annie began to run a high temperature of 105 degrees. Of how the doctor told her to take Annie to the hospital and then how Annie died two days after Christmas. She smiled a little as she told us that Annie was her only baby to look like an angel, while her other children as babies looked like mice. After she said that she laughed a little and said the rest grew up to look like angels but then she repeated that Annie was born looking like one.
It was so obvious that after all those years Annie's mother still misses her very much. Don’t get me wrong its not like Ms. Findley broke down and sobbed her guts out as she told her story (not that there is anything wrong with that and I am a firm believer in that everyone needs to have a good cry down in then )but her pain was there all the same. That whole room was dedicated to her angel, baby Annie. As I heard her tell this story and as well as many others I began to see in my heart a deeper story. I saw a woman who had great pain and sorrow all though out her life ( a divorce and a lost of a child) but didn’t let it consumer her. She had some how learned how to move one and mourn all at the same time. She showed me that it moving on does not always mean forgetting. That how however many decades later the loss of a loved one is still there you just have to deal and live life.
Now maybe I'm wrong and Ms. Findley would totally disagree with me but that is what I saw.
All names in this story have been changed and the story is only as accurate as my memory. Ms. Findley's story was told to me by Ms Findley herself.
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