 |
| Winnifred "Bunnie" (Keelan) McCorkle, July 18th 1923-May 4th 2012 |
I’ve always known that there would come two Memorial Days,
more difficult than all the others. One
of them has come. My hands shook as I
signed for the parcel on Wednesday, a parcel that contained my mother’s
“Celebration of Life” program, a DVD of pictures made for the Memorial,
three-thousand miles away, a beautiful note card from my eldest sister, and my
mother’s wedding band. Both sisters who
took such loving care of my mother felt it should come to me, with my father’s
blessing. It slipped onto middle finger
of my left hand, warm and heavy with memories.
Do we all feel like lost children when our mothers
pass? I am heartbroken, even as I
rejoice that she has been released from the dementia that took her from us in
pieces. As I looked through all the
pictures on the DVD, I kept hearing her last words to me, “I love you too,
darling,” said over the phone, last year.
In the end, no matter the family sturm und drung, that’s what it comes
down to. We come from love, we
regenerate love with life, and we return to love. That’s the truth I’ve found, in over fifty-six years of living
this messy, incredible life, and being my mother’s daugher.
But before we knew her as “Mum” she was a corporal in the
Women’s Air Force, in England. It was
the second “war to end all wars” and violence crossed the Channel to her very
home shores. She lived through the
London bombings, something she never talked much about. I have three pictures of her in uniform, one
was coloured by her sister, Paddy. She
did everything from making beds and First-Aid, to driving trucks. The world was mad, and every pair of hands,
needed.
She cooked scrambled eggs, one early morning, for a young
pilot who had just returned from a bombing mission. He was a handsome devil, and it wasn’t long before they fell in
love. Who wouldn’t fall in love with
this vivacious young woman, who loved to laugh and dance? He lived up to his wartime nickname of Lucky
when he was able to span her eighteen-inch waist with his hands! They kicked up their heels, on the edge of
disaster.
I protest against those who would make war as business,
because I’m a Royal Air Force brat…and every soul in uniform is my family,
deserving more for their willingness to put lives on the line. I send honour, respect, gratitude and love
to all those fallen in battle. There
are so many souls to thank, for a lot of the world’s freedom, but this year I
walk my labyrinth, wearing my mother’s wedding band, and the only name I will
be able to say is, Corporal Winnifred “Bunnie” Keelan. May you dance amongst the stars, with all
the good lads and lassies, to the swing-time of Creation.
I love you, Mum.
7 comments:
Heartfelt condolences to you Sweet Lorraine and your family. Thank you for the glimpse into your mum's life. She really was rather incredible. Huge warm hugs to you all.
Thank you, my dear friend. I'll show you the DVD, next time we get together.
I'm about to head down to the labyrinth. See you in the centre.
You couldn't have written anything more perfect Lorraine,
and if you were ever without a labyrinth, not to worry, because
you are always in the center.
What a loving tribute, Lorraine! I felt exactly the way you do when my dad passed. These are wounds that never entirely heal, but it does get easier and for me, doing exactly what you've done here, writing, helped me ever so much.
As always, it's our friends who hold us up through these times. Sometimes life seems to be happening all at once, the past, present and future.
You're right Stephanie, writing is what helps us process. It has been my therapy couch forever.
I'm so proud of her service.
Thank you for sharing this with us. She was an incredible woman.
Thank you VW, yes she was and I'm so proud of her service. I cannot imagine what it would be like to be seventeen...and have it seem like the world was ending.
I miss her.
Post a Comment