Chatting with Gladys....

The time arrived in March 2012 when Gladys and I had our talk.  It was a beautiful Friday afternoon; I went to visit the three graves: Dorothy, Lawrence and Viola.  I have to drive past the green house on my way to the graves; I looked for Gladys and did not see her outside.  I went to visit the graves and decorated them each for Easter.  Upon my drive down the hill I saw Gladys; she was outside strolling around her property surrounded by her cats.  My heart felt very happy to see her as I have wanted to chat with her, I wanted to know about Dorothy from a “friends” viewpoint.  I doubted she would remember me from my stop to find the grave back in August.  Remember me she did!  Gladys instantly recognized me and seemed very happy to see me, she also seemed eager to chat with me.  Gladys told me she had hoped I would stop by someday so we would get to talk.  She asked me my name again and I told her, and then she said “which of the forces did you join?”   Mary, my sister had joined the Peace Corps after college.  So I told Gladys, that she must be referring to my sister, Mary, she joined the Peace Corps after college.  Then Gladys said to me still not knowing who I was exactly, “I knew you were Dorothy’s daughter the instant I laid eyes on you”.  Those very words replay in my mind from time to time as that was the best compliment ever to me! Then Gladys added that she thought Dorothy only had two children, a boy and a girl.  I knew if Gladys really knew Dorothy that I would be faced with this eventually.  I felt at complete liberty to tell Gladys everything if I had wanted too.  I have already been in contact with Mary and Michael and they have been spreading the word about me being in their lives so I felt I could freely talk to Gladys about Dorothy.  Gladys told me that her brother and she used to play cards with Dorothy and her brother Lawrence from time to time.   She added that Dorothy led a very busy life what with raising two children on her own so rarely did she get to join in the card games, but that when she was able they always had fun. 

I decided to tell Gladys everything about me and my adoption and how I was Dorothy’s third child.  I didn’t go into all of the details, more or less skimmed the surface of things.  She asked me questions, not too many, and I answered them. 

Gladys told me that her family had owned the Mercantile store and pointed in the direction of the store and told me what to look for when I left that the building on the corner was once the Mercantile.  Gladys told me that Dorothy came into the store once a week and was a very quiet lady, kept to herself, was very kind and a gentle type and then added that Dorothy was very stylish.  Gladys told me that Dorothy was quite the seamstress and made her own clothes, that her and her children were always dressed impeccable.   This I had also heard from Mary and Michael. 

  

Gladys is such a nice woman, looked like a hard working woman in her day.  If my Mother was alive she would be 90 in August 2013, Gladys seemed younger, not all that much, possibly 85.  I didn’t ask her and she did not offer. 

This was what I was thinking prior to actually talking to Gladys.  Was Gladys one of the people in the small town that Dorothy might have been ashamed to bring home a baby, being she was unwed and pregnant?  If you remember, Mary and Michael felt that Dorothy left home to hide her pregnancy and then placed me for adoption due to being ashamed of being in that predicament at 39 and ashamed of people would say. 

If what Mary and Michael thought was true, then my next question to Gladys was this “Gladys, if Dorothy had told her community she was with child and unwed would people in this town have talked about Dorothy?”  Gladys asked me what year I was born, so I told her 1962.  Gladys said “OH MY heavens, YES, Dorothy would have been the talk of the town”.  I said: so it is fair to say that Dorothy gave me up for adoption because of what others would have thought and said about her.  Gladys: “yes, probably so.  They would have also had a few names to call the baby”.  Gladys told me that 1962 was a different day and age, she said Dorothy was probably talked about anyway for being divorced, so being Dorothy became pregnant without a husband it would have been unheard of in those days.  I said to Gladys, do you think if Dorothy would have brought me home from the hospital in February and you would have seen me in June or July sitting on a blanket on the front lawn with my Mother, brother and sister, and saw how cute of a baby I was, people would still criticize? Gladys said “YES!”  She added “they would criticize our Lord if he walked down the street in sandals”.

This is the part that really breaks my heart.  Not that my Mother gave me up for adoption.  But that she loved me like only a Mother does, she wanted to keep me, she suffered the remainder of her life, she was never the same, was in fact depressed, and all because of what other people may have of thought of her.  Yes, we have come a long way since 1962, but shame on anyone that would have thought less of this beautiful kindhearted woman whom I am happy to have as my Mother. 

The Cemetery...

When I read Dorothy’s obituary I knew I needed to visit her in the cemetery.  Now I would be the first person to tell you that you don’t need to go to a cemetery to visit the dead, you can talk to them in your heart anytime you want to talk to them, and you have their undivided attention.  However, I felt a calling to visit my Mother’s grave.  I looked up the cemetery on Google maps, keyed in the address into my GPS and made a visit.  I had the section and the grave number written down so I could find my Mother easily.  The cemetery is 17 miles from my home.  I arrived at the cemetery on a beautiful hot Friday evening at the end of August.  This was actually the day that Mary, my sister, had received my letter the day prior. I drove around looking for section numbers, this is an old cemetery and if there were numbers marking the section I certainly could not find them.  I was feeling discouraged as I looked and looked around at so many graves and not a single number to be found.  I even got out and walked around aimlessly, feeling so lost there.  As I started to leave I saw there was a green framed home that was on the property of the cemetery, I actually passed the home at the entrance to the cemetery but did not notice it then.  It was as if the home just appeared to me and invited me in.  I had to assume this home belonged to the caretaker of the cemetery.  The home had three cars out front so I also assumed someone was home.  On the front porch of this home were many cats and kittens.  I would not be exaggerating at all if I told you there were a good 25+ felines napping on this porch.  As I approached the door to ring the bell some of the cats scurried off and some stayed sound asleep unbothered by me being there.  I ran the bell and waited and waited.  No one came to the door after several minutes so I started walking towards my car.  Feeling very sad at this point, I had come so close, my Mother was here in this cemetery, so close and I had no way of finding her.  Then I heard the side door of the home squeak open and a much older woman came outside asking if she could help me. 

The reality of finding my Mother deceased was still very raw to me, still very new, I had my sunglasses on so that when I asked this woman to help me find my Mother’s grave she could not see I was upset about being at the cemetery.  I asked her if she could help me find a grave, she explained her husband was the caretaker until he passed away but that she knew everyone buried in the cemetery by name.   I told this woman I was looking for a section and told her the section number and grave number.  She told me the sections are numbered but not that the eye could see, only on paper.  She asked me “who are you looking for?” she knew all the graves by who was in them not by a number. So I told her.  She told me she knew Dorothy quite well that her family was friends with Dorothy and her family while they all were growing up.  She said that Dorothy was buried next to her brother Lawrence and sister Viola up on top the hill in the Catholic section.  She then gave me directions on how to find her grave.  Then she asked me who I was.  Who was I? Should I tell her the truth? Why would I not?  I questioned myself quickly as at this time of my first visit to the cemetery I had mailed the letter to Mary, my sister, on Monday, just four days prior, but did not yet receive a reply.  I told the cemetery lady, I am Dorothy’s daughter, Carol.  Me telling this woman that I was Dorothy’s daughter Carol, did not seem to faze the cemetery lady at all.  I asked her what her name was.  She told me Gladys.  I asked her if sometime if I see her outside could I stop and talk to her about my Mother and what kind of woman she was, she said she would be happy to talk to me sometime.  I assumed she didn’t know Dorothy that well or maybe she forgot how many children Dorothy had.