Over the eight years that Mama lived at Parkview Retirement Village, I saw many of my high school classmates when they were visiting their mothers. One of them was my classmate-from-first-grade, Bragg Cox. That friendly guy with the blond hair and easy smile was attracted to another one in our first grade class, my friend, Donna Strickland. In fact, they were “going together” by second grade and it lasted until 5th. Once Bragg introduced me to his mother who was on a different hall from Mama, I started rolling her in her wheelchair for after dinner visits with Pauline.

One night, she startled me with something she said.

“Connie, you know I remember your Daddy. He was in my first grade class at Jonesboro.”

What a wonderful discovery. Pauline told me he was a nice-looking and kind of a quiet guy. She also knew my Aunt Polly who’d been friends with Pauline’s older sister. During our visits she would tell me stories of how it was back then. Mama listened, too but wasn’t able to say a lot by that point, since her dementia had advanced. Pauline had a few physical problems but her mind was very sharp. It helped to be able to carry on a conversation with her since there was so little of that with Mama.

It was approaching Mother’s Day in 2018. Pauline told me Bragg wouldn’t be able to come for a visit because he had a bad cold and sore throat. Within a couple of weeks, she learned that he’d gotten worse and had been referred to Duke Medical Center for tests. We were all shocked to hear that Bragg had advanced cancer that was not treatable. How our hearts grieved for Pauline.

Donna and Bragg’s good friend, Randall — who was also a classmate, joined me in a visit to Pauline. We hoped to offer support especially since she was unable to be with Bragg in those last days.

Not long after our visit, Bragg died on July 3rd at a hospice center. I continued to roll Mama down to Pauline’s rooms for our visits. She would say repeatedly how unbelievable his rapid illness had been.

“He was always so healthy,” she said, “Except when he was little he had a year where he missed a lot of school during the winter.” She’d tell about how she remembered helping him pass the time on those sick days, playing games and reading books.

As she worked through Bragg’s death, she also faced the reality of selling her home. It had become too hard to keep the place even though she’d go back once a week. Her daughter, Beverly was helping her to arrange for an estate auction and make decisions about the items in the house and the barn. When the sale was approaching, Pauline told me she wanted me to come.

One of the things she’d be losing was her set of Iris and Herringbone Depression Glass. She had the crystal (clear) color that was produced in the late ’40s and ’50s. This is an example of the pattern found on Ebay.

“My husband, Lewis used to give me pieces of my Depression glass collection for all my birthdays. I loved those dishes, but I have no way to use them now. If you come to my sale, you’ll get to see them.”

I did go on that cool April morning. I’d never been to their home and wanted to see the place where she’d raised Bragg and had so many memories. She was talking with the auctioneer and those who filled the folding chairs under the tent.

“I’m so glad you came, Connie,” she told me and stood to give me a hug. “You have to check out my dishes on that table,” she said and pointed to the area where her dishes were displayed. “I used that bowl for peaches every summer.”

I went over to the table and found the dishes Lewis had given her. There was one medium-size serving bowl and four small dishes. The smaller items could be purchased immediately and I was happy to secure those treasures for myself. I walked through their house that had furniture marked for sale. I saw her kitchen and stood in front of the sink, looking out on her front lawn where she would have spent so many hours. I imagined Bragg as a young boy in his living room on Christmas morning looking for what Santa had brought him. The rush of time and lives lived was almost more than I could wrap my head around.

On Monday morning, October 14th, 2019, I was sitting at my desk at work and got a call from Beverly. She told me that on Saturday, she’d taken her mother out for a day trip and she’d become very ill. Pauline was admitted to UNC Hospital and declined rapidly.

“Mother realized she was dying. She was at peace with that,” Beverly told me. Pauline had recently turned 99.

“She said for me to give you this message: “Tell Connie that I love her.”

I was startled, overwhelmed by Pauline thinking of me when she was on her deathbed. All the family members I was close to had died suddenly and I never heard a final word from them; but Pauline had remembered me in her last moments. Tears of sadness and joy washed down my face. I told Beverly how much I’d loved being with her mother and how wonderful she’d been to Mama. I would truly miss Pauline.

Last week, I was in a produce market and they had a basket of peaches from a nearby farm, known for having the best. I thought of Ms. Pauline and bought a basket. I peeled and cut them into slices, and then sprinkled enough sugar to bring out the sweet juices. I pulled down Pauline’s peach dishes from my cabinet and felt her presence, seeing her in my mind’s eye many years ago in her kitchen preparing them for Bragg, Linda, and Lewis.

I loved the delicate Depression glass that wasn’t known for fine quality like china but was affordable beauty for simpler folks. I wish I could sit at the table with Ms. Pauline and share the sweet summer fruit and the sweeter memories of those long ago days.

How I treasure that friendship we had for a season.

In loving memory of Ms. Pauline and all she meant to me and so many others.

Connie