Letters From Minnie Allen Riley Estes Spitler Carlson

Minnie Carlson is the mother of H.O. Estes (Lawrence Estes' father). These are letters about her family and a bit of history.

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Minnie Allen Riley was born February 27, 1866 to Martha Evelyn O’Neal Riley and O.D.A. Riley. Martha and O.D.A. were married before the Civil War in Barnwell County which is now Allendale County, South Carolina. Martha was O.D.A.’s second wife.

O.D.A. and his first wife, [“…a Miss Johnson…”], had five children:

Zenobia Y. Riley who married a Rice and died at the age of 60 at Green Cove Springs, J.W. Ogilvia Riley who died in Atlanta at the age of 73 leaving one daughter – Emily Booth of Atlanta, Winifred Hunter who died in Miccanopy, Florida, Miles Riley who died in Tampa, Florida at the age of 50 – perhaps more – leaving a large family of girls who were all doing well in Tampa, and Catherine Riley who died at the age of 5 years in Florida.

O.D.A. and Martha had three children:

Martha Evelyn, born September 21, 1860 she died on June 7, 1930 and lived in Tampa after marrying a Mr. Groves, Carrie Ann who died November 11, 1881 of Typhoid Fever at the age of 18 close to the same time her Mother died, and Minnie Allen.

O.D.A. Riley brought them all here to Florida in covered wagons after the War. He left everything he had in South Carolina. He had eight horses and a couple of mules with him. Minnie Riley took her first steps while the family was camped on the banks of St. Mary’s River in Florida.

O.D.A. homesteaded land and put out an orange grove near Citra, Florida. The horses died and all the family came near death with chills and fever. Catherine did die. The boys left and Oglivia went to North Carolina and Miles to Texas. The girls married. Minnie’s mother, Martha, taught school. She was a college graduate.

O.D.A. took Martha and their three daughters back to South Carolina. Martha collected together her furniture she had left with her people in South Carolina. What O.D.A. had left with his brother, Colonel Wilson Riley, he never got back; like some do, he used it up or something. Martha died with Typhoid Fever at the age of 47 on August 11, 1881.

O.D.A and Minnie Allen came back to Florida when she was nearly fifteen. She met and married W.W. Estes on March 26, 1885. He died May 6, 1890. His age is on his stone in Woodlawn Cemetery in Tampa, Florida. It was the second grave made in that cemetery.

Minnie Riley Estes Spitler wrote that Judith Estes, wife of Verner Estes, (the son of Minnie Allen and Dr. W.W. Estes), was a Colonial Dame and she traced the Estes family back to “the Queen”. It was an Italian name and all came from Italy. Eleanor Estes Miller, the daughter of Verner W. Estes, married to Thomas W. Miller, lived at the Cloisters, Apt. 219, 106 Interlachen Avenue, Winter Park, Florida 32789. The phone number was 1-305-644-4863.

Dr. W.W. Estes mother was a Matthews. Minnie Riley said she was raised there … on a big grain and stock farm. Dr. Estes father and his brother lived in a mile of each other but were not friends at all for years. Their people, (the Estes), all went to Tennessee from North Carolina.

Dr. Estes father was a well off farmer and married into a good prosperous family. Grandpa Estes however, took to drinking in his late forties and would go straight for three months and then grab the best mule on the farm, sell it and drink it up. However, he was a dear good hearted man when sober, but a curse to the whole family on his long sprees.

Dr. Wilson Warnell Estes was born on July 4, 1857 and died at the age of 32 on May 6, 1890 of “…slow paralysis…” He married Minnie Allen Riley on March 26, 1885. They had 3 children:

Verner Wilson born March 7, 1886, Halcot Osgood Estes born in 1887, and Lillian Estes born in 1890.

Minnie Allen Estes purchased Mrs. White’s Millinery Store in 1890 two weeks before Dr. Estes died. She had the first concrete sidewalk in Tampa. She went to Baltimore and employed on trimmer and eventually had 5 from there. At that time, the Tampa Bay Hotel was operating and tourists wee coming. The Estes were in Tampa at the time of the laying of the Tampa Bay Hotel foundation. Minnie was commissioned to make the bridal hats for Mrs. Peter O. Knight. When the bride to be came for her hats, Lillian, as a baby, came crawling out of the workshop area pulling one of the hats by the streamers. Her store was next door to the marble bank building. The airport on Davis Islands is named Peter O. Knight Airport.

Minnie Estes came to Tampa November 27, 1889 from Tennessee. They went up to Tennessee from Palatka when Halcot was ten months old. They were running from yellow fever. Eva, Minnie’s sister and family had yellow fever in Tampa. They were in Palatka, then had to run as all did out of Palatka as there were several cases of yellow fever.

When they ran from Palatka, Dr. Estes set up an office in Jackson, Tennessee, but he was so sick he could not attend to business. He drank a lot of whiskey to try to keep going he said. In eighteen months he went down and he weighed only one hundred and thirteen pounds when he took to his bed. He was never any to complain. He could not talk to his wife or tell her anything. In November they went traveled back to Tampa and on May 6, Dr. Estes died. He was a Presbyterian and he had taken an interest in the church and the coming plans for this YMCA. There were four or five men very good and thoughtful of him in Tampa. He practiced a little when he first came in old Dr. Cowants office.

Minnie was left with three babies – a baby herself – she wrote. “…I gathered them in my left arm and fought the wolf from the door with my right. No man or woman gave me anything except Benton […Dr. Estes…] brother, who sent forty dollars to help pay expenses of the funeral. I went in where he lay in his casket and swept all the room and under his casket – so blinded with tears I could hardly see. I arranged the chairs and a few flowers. I paid a man one silver dollar to stay in the room with the corpse that night. I don’t know who he was. He had on a red woolen shirt and every time I looked in he was leaning against the wall with arms folded. I had a white girl working for me and lived in the house. It must have been some of her kin. I don’t remember.

“Later in June I took the three children to Tennessee – went by boat to Mobile then took the Mobile and Ohio Railroad to Wilson. The folks met me there. I left you (Halcot) and Verner there for nine months. You (Halcot) did not want me to leave you. Verner was having a big time. It near broke my heart to do it. I got my store going good. I left Lillian here (Tampa), and I ran up for you boys – so happy – then you did not want to leave your grandma so there it was again. But soon it was alright. Then I got a negro to keep all three at home here and she was good too. I was always afraid I would die and you boys would have no one to come for you.”

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Our Beautiful South Land

By Minnie A. Estes Spitler

(This was written and read by Minnie A. Estes Spitler for the Daughters of the Confederacy).

Our beautiful South Land so torn and bleeding in body and heart lay dormant a long time after the struggle in the sixties almost stunned and dormant but was only waiting for kind good nature to heal body and mind and today 1910 sees her in all her glory coming in her very own as God in his great goodness has intended all things to do. It’s like the mist that rises from the waves returns to the little brook that hastens with a happy murmer to help with swelling the river and hurries on to the great ocean and here comes the mist in the form of the rain again to the brook, so it is to us poor suppressed southerners. Of the sixties, I must say, I only wish I could write the suffering of this people from real experience, but alas will now only be doing what my poor mother asked to do at one time to write down what she told me of the men. Now, after 25 years, I am trying to do it.

My mother was truly a daughter of the confederacy born in dear old South Carolina in Barnwell County. She was a frail woman never weighing one hundred pounds in her life and yet a strong woman in will and courage. As I would sit and listen to her tell of the march of Sherman’s to the sea, it seemed my very blood would turn cold within me. At one time with husband and brothers all gone off to war, and with only her little children left, even her trusted blacks all scattered, she heard the boom of the cannon and knew there was a terrible battle raging very near. She saw a woman in a large wagon alone with it full of helpless children – 8 in all, their father had been killed, house burned and this helpless mother who was raised with plenty was in the road alone no husband and no home, surrounded by blue coats and glittering steel who promptly demanded her team for their use which of course she surrendered to them promptly.

My Mother, was at that time barricaded with her children in the house, saw the condition of this poor creature of circumstances, laid all fear aside and with her own babies holding on to her skirts begging her not to open the door, she coaxed loose form them and went her way along the road this cold dreary day having in many places to push herself among these ugly warriors of the north and at last reached this woman and her children and managed to get them in her yard and in this one room where she and crowded also hams and peas between beds and mattresses and kept a child on the bed playing sick so as to try to appeal to these men who were by looking at the place.

She put a trunk of silver in the bottom of a well. They soon drew it dry and took out the trunk. She put a box of finery such as the south all likes as well as the north in a deep hole and buried it and burned trash over the spot in the yard to hide it, but they found it. They also shot her faithful watch dog, killed all her geese and chickens. They cut open beds in the parlor and poured molasses over the feathers. My precious mother said, with this poor widow and 8 children moaning and crying and her own little ones clinging to her skirts begging for bread, it was almost more than her brain could stand.

The blue coats were not only thick in the road and yard, but would push in this one room looking for food and money, also jewels. As she stood one night near the close of the 8 days march of Sherman – a mental and physical wreck begging her God for guidance to help – this one room sacred to herself and family, her prayers and entreaties for the soldiers to keep out which they would not heed but rudely push pass and rummage that room full of poor helpless women and children. She was worn with pleadings and fear – she said she took all her faith and guidance from her great God and went alone without hat or shawl about one mile to a cross road. She heard that n Irish soldier was captain there and she had an Irish name so she thought she might appeal to him in her Irish name for protection to get them at least out of this one room. He was a Yankee but had a true Irish heart. He sent her back with a guard and he stood there and drove them all out of even the yard and gave special protection for the rest of that dreadful march of Sherman’s to the sea.

We cannot but be glad that the Negroes have been freed. It will be a curse on the south for several generations buying and selling these blacks, yet we as southerners love our dear old black mama’s and our polite little black maid and they never tire of doing for us now if they are of good southern raising.

We daughters of the Confederacy and Sons of the Confederacy could never go on the Negro as we have been raised among them and know their worth.

The north has the money, we have the climate and a few brains left but can hardly see how there could be any left as the strain on our generals and humanity for lack of money and food and seeing all their worldly goods being destroyed and their wives and children being insulted by these people who dare to say they have whipped the south.

I was born in 66 and I imagine I would have been better able to love my northern brothers and sisters and give them a warm clasp of the hand if I had been born in later years.

When they creep down here from those frozen hills and valleys to bathe in our warm sunshine and sit under our orange trees to hear our birds sing. Oh yes, we are coming back to the good old times. We may have some more Abraham Lincoln’s out of old Kentucky yet who will stir us up. I guess Abe knew what was good for us and I will take my hat off to him as a great man and benefactor. Just think with such backing what would General Lee have done for them and Davis and others. Think under what conditions they worked. It seems to me like whipping a fellow already down, when they say they whipped the south.

Lawrence And Inez Estes

A casual photo of Grandmother and Granddaddy.

Lawrence Estes

This is a photo of Lawrence (Granddaddy as my sisters and I called him) Estes mugging for the camera. I think this is a classic photo because I have photos of me doing the exact same thing looking the exact same way. I inherited his goofiness and I don't deny it. You just gotta deal with it.

Charles Francis Davis

Thanks to Rosemary, I got a hold of this great old photo of Charles Francis Davis. He is the oldest son of Mammoo Estes' brother Leo Davis. He was born in Chicago in 1903 and died in 1987. Other than that, there is not much left on Geni. If anyone can fill in any other information there, that would be helpful.

From My Heart To Yours

Gloria,

Your love and understanding is a constant source of strength to me. The laughter we share keeps me focused on the positive instead of the negative. I know I can always count on you for the truth when I'm not looking at the whole picture; for a connection when I feel alone; and most of all quiet when I need someone to listen and understand when I feel lost or hurt.

Although each of you sisters has given me all the things described above in some way at some time, my connection to you is difficult to define. You have simply loved me in spite of myself. And in spite of all our difficulties growing up, we have both found that the more love you give to others, the more you receive in return. Your special gift has always been the ability to be an endless fountain of love for others. As difficult as it is to give a gift like this without instructions and sage advice, you give your heart freely every day and hope it will be received in the spirit given. We sisters, although different as snowflakes are the same in many ways. Our bond may not be unique to other families, but I believe it is forged from sheer determination to support and love each other despite our differences. I know that I don't have to follow and could never lead, but will always stand beside you as a friend and sister. No one is so perfect that they can't stumble over the simplest of hurdles, and even so, stand up and try, try again. Stumbling makes us human; trying makes us stronger.

If I could give you anything in the world I think it would be - laughter in tears, hugs in heartaches, and love like the rising sun's rays - warm, glowing, spreading over all your world. Put your doubts and worries on the wings of butterflies and race toward all life has to offer you. Laughter and Love be with you always.

From my heart to yours,

Rosemary

Snow Shoveling

Ah...Winter time in Ohio. Yes, good ol' snow. I don't think Sheila and I were really shoveling much snow on the day, more so than posing for pictures. I remember walking up and down the street asking people if we could shovel their drives for a bit of coin. No takers...and one weird guy wrapped up in his bedspread wondering what the hell we wanted.

We also didn't do much in the snow aside from going to school and letting other people drive us around in it. It was fun to watch the cars slide around sideways. What's the big deal? Snow with friends? Lots of fun! For parents scraping and heating up their cars - not so much.

I walked a few miles a day in snow or shine to school. I did that because I hated riding the bus. It also gave me time to think about stuff and get myself ready for the day. Sometimes I'd walk with friends, but mostly it was by myself. Not everyone thought it was a good idea. My dad especially thought I didn't bundle up nearly enough. Truth be told, if you walk a couple of miles to school, you're pretty warmed up by the time you get there. He wouldn't hear of it. He wanted heavier jackets and scarves and all that. Of course I didn't. I was perfectly fine. I wore my gloves and my hat and a jacket and that was all I needed. The only time it was a concern was when it was dark out - night out - in the early morning with snow falling and ice on the ground. Then you could seriously bust your butt. I never hurt myself doing it, though I do remember my dad threatening to show me real pictures of what happens to folks with frost bite!! I was like, I'm not out in it that long...and I'm like walking the entire time...and I'd hope one of the passing folk or cars or buses would stop and help if I was down that hard somewhere along the route. Of course he meant well, and what else are you going to do when your kid stops riding the bus that comes by right out side the door and walks four miles up and back to school a day.

Snow was also cool downtown. There was nothing like the big city downtown in Dayton. Everything there was huge with tons of cars and tons of people and snow made getting there fairly exciting. We never had an accident but there was a fairly scary time of driving in an ice storm that was covering the car faster than the wipers could get it off and the time when we literally could not drive up the icy hill of the drive way to the garage.

I can say we were in a blizzard. What did that mean to me? Almost two weeks off from school!!! Woo Hoo!!! For all those that had to drive in it...I'm sure that was some dangerous stuff. Nothing better though than listening to WING & Kirkie in the morning - Steve Kirk that is - telling us what schools were closed. It was either total elation, YES! YES!, or a total let down...all those schools closed and not us? With all the hills and small mountains in Ohio, you could be socked in here and over in the Miami valley near Cincinnati could be all clear.

At school, the cold meant recess huddling up in these huge concrete pipes strewn across the playground. They were your own personal forts and always good for much mischief. If it was too bad out, there would be recess in the classroom. All those kids playing records, dancing and stuff...it was really different from the Florida Schools. We were smarter coming into those schools, and naturally we were dumber when we came back, but I would say it was almost a toss up.

Ah snow. Everyone should have a chance to play in it at least once.

I Carry Your Heart With Me

To my daughters and Granddaughters,

I carry your heart with me (I carry it in
my heart) I am never without it (anywhere
I go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)...

I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)

-E.E. Cummings

Kindness

Kindness covers all my political beliefs. No need to spell them out. I believe that if, at the end of it all, according to our abilities, we have done something to make others a little happier, and something to make ourselves a little happier, that is about the best we can do. To make other less happy is a crime. To make ourselves unhappy is where all crime starts. We must try to contribute joy to the world. That is true no matter what our problems, our health, our circumstances. We must try. I did not always know this, and am happy I lived long enough to find this out.

-Roger Ebert

Estes Christmas

December 1957, Connie is 6 months old. Gloria, Linda, Rosemary, Connie and Inez all together for Christmas 1957. Mother and Daddy always made Christmas so special. They were big, unique and lots of fun. I miss Mother and Daddy and all that our family was!

In The Good Ole Summertime

Constance Mary Davis Estes in her swimming costume. Summer was a big time for the Estes family. They always took big vacations, sometimes spending weeks at the beach and often at New Symrna and Daytona.

Looking for a Feather

Through out my life, I found that I have a special connectivity with certain people. We are on the same wavelength. It is difficult to explain how it happens, but when you think about somebody and then they call you 3 minutes later to say they were thinking about you, and that happens enough times, you have to wonder if it is a coincidence.

One of those people, was my mom.

Through the years, I would get her mental phone call and have her on my mind enough to know she was thinking about me too. Many times, there was indeed something significant going on that needed some discussion. As life got busier through the years, the line got a bit static-y at times, but the connection was still there. It seemed as the chemo affected her mind, that the static was more difficult to break through.

I walk my dog alot for exercise any my mind wanders to many topics. Years ago, I came across a tv show with a highly sought after psychic that claimed that a relative close to him that had passed would reveal his presence using feathers. Whether it be real or just the suggestion of it, I started noticing that when thoughts of my dad crossed my mind while out and about, I would often find a feather on the ground in my path. Sometimes, this happens even in doors. It has been comforting to think of him watching over me, looking in on my life. As mom's news of no more chemo shifted into hospice care, I stopped seeing feathers. I even hoped that he could be near her to help guide her as she transitioned from this world to the next. I wondered about her parents Inez and Lawrence, and whether they could be there for her too.

As we got to the final days, and even the final hours, when there are no words left to say but "I love you", the connection was still there and the words are not necessary anyway. Even that last morning when she was no longer able to respond to me, I knew she was "in there" as I held her hand and sat by her side.

It wasn't until that night, that things changed. At 11:00p, after a couple of hours where I played every meditation piece on my ipod and barely drifted off to sleep. I woke up with start. I had seen her face in the dark. Mom was young, her dark hair full and soft, a look of concern on her face. It was if she had peeked into my mind for a brief moment and then withdrew. I went to her bedside and held her hand in mine. Her chest still rose and fell with short shallow breaths, but something was different. She was more in the next world than this one and the connection was weaker than ever. I eventually went back to bed and tried not to cry too much recognizing the inevitable was near.

She has been gone for a month now. I still miss her everyday. I haven't seen any feathers but she is in my dreams. She is busy doing her things and I am busy with Nick, doing mine. Together but separated. And that's how it is now.

Mom At Cocoa Beach 1960

How glamorous!

Lawrence And Inez Estes Wedding Picture

This is Lawrence and Inez Estes wedding picture. I think their anniversary is April 27 but I don't know the year. I believe it was probably 71 years ago. So probably it was 1940. What a handsome couple!

Mom At The End

I was at home one work night when Mom called and she told me that they were going to try one more chemo and that was going to be it. She said, it didn’t mean that she was going to be gone in a week, but surely by summer there might be an end to things. I remember how strong she was saying that as I was crying on the phone about it. I knew the time would come when that would be it, but I never was really ready to just hear her say it so clearly and calmly. She was definitely comforting me about it. She even asked me to come over to be with her so that I would feel better and of course I did. She didn’t seem sick outside of her hospital visits becoming routine after having chemo due to her bowels not working or her throwing up too much. I believe she went through one more cycle and that was pretty much it. She came out of the hospital and it was clear that it was too hard on her to continue.

I never thought of her as sick until after that when she never really recovered her strength, her appetite or her robustness. It was then I knew this would be it, yet I held on to the hope that it would be months and not weeks that she would have left. There were many things that she had already set up for her final arrangements. There were many things that she did and did not want help with. She wanted Gil to help her. There would be times when she would say that I could her help her with something personal, but I would still back off, because I knew that she had previously told me she didn’t want me to do it. She had said that when she had helped Grandmother there were things that Grandmother felt Gloria should not be doing for her and toward the end mom was the same way, so I left those things to Gil. She specifically wanted Debbie to do certain things as well and would wait for her to come.

I tried to piece together the ideas of things that I would say about her if I had to write it out or speak it at her funeral, and at one time she did consider that maybe I could do the eulogy and I was kind of terrified of that idea, but if I did there would be a few things I would say.

I would have said that we talked a lot about God and the Bible together. She was very faithful and very spiritual, but she was also seeking beyond the “rules” of religion that she had so long been taught and wanted to know what something actually meant. I hesitated at some points to which she would say, “You think I might be disillusioned...” and I would say that faith was never disillusioning, but maybe the context from which things come may be disappointing. There are two Creation stories and there are two stories of death. She was fascinated about what both actually meant. I remember digging up a ton of scripture about it. She wanted to know what Revelation really meant. I didn’t go down that road because it was too hard to find a reference book that wasn’t slanted to a political viewpoint in one way or another, besides Revelation having incredibly complex symbology that I wasn’t about to try and figure out.

We did find common ground on what the ‘message’ of the Bible really was. Christ makes it very clear in just a few sentences. Love Him. Love everyone without exception. Do unto others as you’d have them do unto you. Take care of the poor and the children. Love - above all things. I would say, is there anything else to it, and she would agree, not really. She did have a firm opinion on being proper and couth. She could go on for hours about etiquette and manners. She didn’t like violent things after a time, even though she loved horror films while I was growing up. She never liked depictions of sexuality, but she could watch the most sappy and gooey romantic movies.

When I thought about Christ’s words and her deeds, my thought was always that I could never live up to what she had lived everyday. She gave without a thought every day to people who needed it. Be it friend, relative, co-worker or the public that came to her window at Social Security. If she had a gift from God, it would have been that folk knew her to be someone they could come to when they had a need. She had people that would come to her from the public that had to have been given a Word that mom was someone that would be able to help them get what they need.

She walked with me one day around her office and every person there came out and said, ‘this is why Gloria is special to me,’ without fail. She may have had the reputation of the old fuddy-duddy, but they knew who to go to when they needed advice, a Word or just an ear to listen. I was hoping to get an in for a job there and I left thinking, how could I ever live up to that? It’s one thing to have good friends and its another to have a group of people that come out and give you a testimonial. It was truly amazing.

I spent a few days a week coming over to dinner with mom and Gil. I usually reserved coming over for dinner time as it was something that collectively we could share in and have time to talk over the events of the day. Also, it just seemed to work out the best around work hours. As events drew more dire, I tried to make it one more day a week and then toward the end, I was coming over everyday that I was free. Usually I would hear Gil and mom be their usual selves. Often mom couldn’t let something go and sometimes Gil would become frustrated with it and vice versa. It was just typical stuff. I never really talked to them about their relationship and how they felt about each other. As the days came to where Gil was being mom’s primary caregiver, I watched him help her out of her chair or bed to come to dinner. They would take hands and count 1, 2, 3 and up she would stand and they would kiss. She would then come to the table and have a plate set for her despite the fact she couldn’t eat any of it. When she was ready to go back, they repeated the process with the counting and the kiss and I will never forget that.

I would take some things for granted I suppose. That she would be around forever or that as a man, Gil or myself would not necessarily be confessing personal things to each other, but to watch him care for mom, I truly have admiration for him. I don’t think I could have done as well, though I surely would have tried if it came down to it. The two of them had plotted and planned what they would do for each other down to the last detail and he remained devoted around the clock to see that all these things were taken care of. Mom couldn’t have asked for better care. She wanted only specific people there at specific times and it was obviously a burden on Gil to have to corral who could come and when. It was really hard on her to have many people there at once and Gil did the best he could to make sure that she wasn’t overwhelmed. I stuck to my routine and often came after everyone else had gone.

Toward the end Gil discovered that her medication was not really necessary and when she gave up taking it, she became quite aware and had several very good days. She stopped feeling pain for a while, and some of the ‘end stages’ we thought she was in was really the medication knocking her out. She even became feisty. It was nice to hear that. I told her so and she had to think about that for a minute. She could out stubborn a cat when she wanted to.

When Debbie came over at the end, I was glad that her and Gil worked well together to allow Gil time to get the things done he needed to do. Mom wanted her to come and mom knew she was there. It was only when she fell into her deepest sleep that she didn’t react, but other wise she knew each person as they came in or at least responded to them.

I remember feeling relieved one morning. Actually happy. I was relieved because I accepted what was happening. I was relieved that she had such good care with Gil and with the hospice nurses and I was relieved that I was not feeling sad for the first time in a long while. Gil told me that it was ok. I should feel that way. The nurses told me that everything was going the way it should. In fact, it was good. It was very good. Mom was comfortable and pain free and moving along as they expected without cause for concern or for emergency. Each question of the death was turned into a blessing. It was a blessing that was coming. This made it much easier for me to deal with and to understand. I was sad. Oh for sure. I cried and I wallowed and begged and prayed many a time, but I didn’t do it in front of her. I knew she was alert and I didn’t want to be grieving for her while I was there with her. Everyone feels differently and I accept that. I know that I carry the death of my father with me everyday as I never really got to know him nor him me, but with mom it will be with a glad heart that I remember her and not a sad heart to mourn her.

At the end, I got a phone call at 3 am, the time she always woke up and called for Gil or the nurses to help her. I didn’t know what to do. I remember saying that to Debbie on the phone. I don’t know what to do. Should I come over? Yes. I went over and we waited for the folk to come and take her away. That was the hardest day of all. I felt like I was watching from a distance and just going through the motions. From there it was a blur with the funeral and the all the folk coming over and trying to go back to work. I was so glad to see my boss Kelly and a co-worker Jessica there. I felt good they wanted to be there for me. I was also very glad to see Estes I didn’t know there and some others I rarely get to see as well as the tremendous turn out of her friends and co-workers.

We just have to figure out what ‘life’ is now. We won’t be hermits forever, though I still plan to take a weekend away. There are still a few last steps to take, and we’ll take them one step at a time.

Lawrence Estes 1916

I wondered where his whimsy came from...that outfit! Click the photo for a larger image.