Commemorating a sad occasion
It is hard to believe that it has been nine years since my mother died.
My mother, Josephine Lowery, died Sept. 7, 2010. She is buried in the cemetery at Unity AME Zion Church in Kings Mountain, N.C.
I have never visited her grave. It is a combination of reasons. The distance is more than three hours from where I live. I just can't make myself go because I miss her so much.
When I want to be near her, I visit Glencairn Garden in Rock Hill. When she was alive and undergoing chemotherapy and radiation, she lived down the street from the park.
And on good days, she would walk up the hill to sit in the park and as she put it — “wallow in God’s splendor.”
The park was her happy place and shelter from the storm of breast cancer. I loved walking with her. We would sit and talk. Or I would read quietly while she sat there.
Before her death, the city of Rock Hill was buying most of the homes on the street to expand the park. The expansion has been beautiful.
Glencairn Garden started as the six-acre backyard garden of Dr. David and Hazel Bigger in 1928.
And years later, the Garden is an 11-acre paradise. When you are there, you forget that you are in a bustling city of more than 66,000 people.
Glencairn Garden was one of the last places we visited together before she was hospitalized and died.
I don’t have a green thumb but she would tell me about the different flowers in the garden and how she wanted a garden like this after she moved.
My favorite spot is near the Veterans Garden with a fountain and swings at the furthest end of the park. This is near where my parents’ home used to be.
There is a brick wall, which features seals honoring each branch of the service — Army, Marines, Navy, Air Force, Coast Guard — and a final one recognizing prisoners of war and persons missing in action.
I love to sit in those swings and listen to the sounds of the fountain.
I usually bring my journal and write a letter detailing what is going on in my life. I imagine at times she is standing behind me reading it over my shoulders.
After writing, I walk and take in the beauty of the park. Sometimes I am there for 30 minutes while strolling across the Japanese Bridge to the Cascade Fountain and pond or for a few hours trying to see as much as possible.
Rock Hill is more than two hours from here. Sometimes I tell my brother and aunt that I am in town and other times, I head to Chick-fil-A and quietly leave.
It has been nine years since she died. When the end came, I was holding her hand and telling her how much I loved her. She was only 53.
I wish she was still alive so she could tease me about being back in South Carolina. I wish she could see her grandsons turning into pretty decent young men. I wish she could see me doing what I love. I don't think I will ever stop missing her.
My mother, Josephine Lowery, died Sept. 7, 2010. She is buried in the cemetery at Unity AME Zion Church in Kings Mountain, N.C.
I have never visited her grave. It is a combination of reasons. The distance is more than three hours from where I live. I just can't make myself go because I miss her so much.
When I want to be near her, I visit Glencairn Garden in Rock Hill. When she was alive and undergoing chemotherapy and radiation, she lived down the street from the park.
And on good days, she would walk up the hill to sit in the park and as she put it — “wallow in God’s splendor.”
The park was her happy place and shelter from the storm of breast cancer. I loved walking with her. We would sit and talk. Or I would read quietly while she sat there.
Before her death, the city of Rock Hill was buying most of the homes on the street to expand the park. The expansion has been beautiful.
Glencairn Garden started as the six-acre backyard garden of Dr. David and Hazel Bigger in 1928.
And years later, the Garden is an 11-acre paradise. When you are there, you forget that you are in a bustling city of more than 66,000 people.
Glencairn Garden was one of the last places we visited together before she was hospitalized and died.
I don’t have a green thumb but she would tell me about the different flowers in the garden and how she wanted a garden like this after she moved.
My favorite spot is near the Veterans Garden with a fountain and swings at the furthest end of the park. This is near where my parents’ home used to be.
There is a brick wall, which features seals honoring each branch of the service — Army, Marines, Navy, Air Force, Coast Guard — and a final one recognizing prisoners of war and persons missing in action.
I love to sit in those swings and listen to the sounds of the fountain.
I usually bring my journal and write a letter detailing what is going on in my life. I imagine at times she is standing behind me reading it over my shoulders.
After writing, I walk and take in the beauty of the park. Sometimes I am there for 30 minutes while strolling across the Japanese Bridge to the Cascade Fountain and pond or for a few hours trying to see as much as possible.
Rock Hill is more than two hours from here. Sometimes I tell my brother and aunt that I am in town and other times, I head to Chick-fil-A and quietly leave.
It has been nine years since she died. When the end came, I was holding her hand and telling her how much I loved her. She was only 53.
I wish she was still alive so she could tease me about being back in South Carolina. I wish she could see her grandsons turning into pretty decent young men. I wish she could see me doing what I love. I don't think I will ever stop missing her.
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