Happy Birthday

It was a blustery October afternoon when I decided it was time to pay her a visit.  It was the day before my big race and I was supposed to be at home relaxing, not walking around in the rain.  But I knew I was running out of time.  My days in that 'hood were numbered.  We were going to be moving on so it was now or never.   I clutched my phone in my hand and kept glancing down at it as I walked around.  I wanted to make sure I had the info right.  


Would she be here I wondered?


It had been 25+ years since I saw her last.   The overwhelming urge to see her again was inexplicable.  I guess I just really needed to know that she was there.  I wandered around for what seemed like an hour.  I was cold.  It was windy and miserable out.  I was getting discouraged.  I must have looked completely lost because a groundskeeper stopped to ask me what I was looking for.  I told him and he pointed me in another direction.  He led the way and gingerly stepped along a path I hadn't really noticed before.  Just as I walked over to him I saw it.

I willed myself not to cry.  At long last.  Here she is.  


I thanked the groundskeeper for his help and waited until he left before I let the tears flow.  I'm not sure why I was so overcome with emotion.  She's been gone for 27 years.  Time may be the great healer but it can also make you realize how much you've missed.   I knelt down, cleaned off the stone and said hello.

Copyright Phaedra Kennedy 2011

Do you know how many times I've run by here looking for you?  You know I think of you often.  I think you'd be really proud of the woman I've become.  And yes, I still love Duran Duran.  I'll be thinking of you tomorrow when I'm out racing.  I know you'll be cheering me on from wherever you are.  I'll be back next week for another visit.

It's two days post race and I'm feeling good.  Almost good enough to lace up my shoes and take one last lap through Mount Pleasant.  The thought is tempting given that by weeks end we will be out of the 'hood an back in the West End.  But I decide that a short walk might be a better option, especially given that I don't know where half of my running stuff is.   It's a gloomy October evening but the weather is not affecting me.  As I turn into the cemetery, a small smile spreads across my lips.  I'm happy because I'm going back to check in on Grandma and wish her Happy Birthday.  

Ruth Miriam Welch:  Born October 18, 1916, Died December 31st, 1984, from breast cancer.  Mother, traveler, avid gardener and one very cool Grandma.  

Checking In On Grandma

I fondly remember my Grandma as being one of the coolest women I knew when I was younger.  She was an avid traveler and she used to bring me back the best goodies from her trips.  I particularly remember a pair of castanettes that she brought me from Spain.  Probably not the best thing to give an 8 year old girl who loved to "play music" (that's what I called it but I'm sure to my parents it was pure noise).

My Grandma's house was a place of wonder.   It was a tiny old 2 storey home on a large piece of land up at Yonge & York Mills.   The basement still had dirt floors in some areas and the kitchen was straight out of the 50's.  I have many fond memories of sitting in that kitchen with Grandma, eating Cheerios with brown sugar and listening to the gurgle of the coffee percolator.   The back yard was another wonderland.   It was a very wide lot and fairly deep too.  The neighbours behind my grandma didn't bother putting up a fence.  Instead there was a small footpath that joined the yards.  They had a pear tree that used to be laden with juicy pears every fall.  I remember wandering around the back yard, picking up pears and putting the good ones in a basket.  My Grandma also had a fantastic vegetable garden.  It would not be usual to find me out sitting amongst the plants with the garden hose, pulling carrots out of the ground, rinsing them off with the hose, and then popping them into my mouth.  I could also be found in the big mass of raspberry and currant bushes, happily pulling berries off the branches and stuffing them in my face.

The amount of amazing memories I have of my Grandma belies the relatively short time I had her in my life.  She passed away from breast cancer when I was 13 years old.   My Grandpa (her husband) passed away when I was 6 so I don't have many memories of him at all.  But from the bits and pieces of pictures and letters that I was lucky enough to have passed on to me, I have a very good sense of the man.   He was a talented photographer.  I remember all of this darkroom equipment had a permanent home in that dark basement.    Funny how 15 years later that same hobby became the focus in my post secondary education!

I think of my Grandparents often, especially my Grandma.  The first race I ever did was CIBC's Run for the Cure and I did it in honor of my Grandma (both of my Grandma's actually, my dad's mom passed away from breast cancer at the young age of 39).    I think I still have my "Who Are You Running For" race bib.   I know that she would be incredibly proud of the woman that I've become.   Years after she passed, I remember asking my Mom where Grandma was buried and she told me Mount Pleasant Cemetery.   When I first lived in the Davisville and Yonge area I would walk through the cemetery on a regular basis, trying to find my Grandma's grave.  That was like looking for a needle in a haystack.  Old habits die hard because on my first run back in the same hood, I went through the cemetery, hoping that perhaps I'd luck out and miraculously stumble upon her grave.  No such luck.

I have tried searching online for a "map" of the plots but I think a visit to the cemetery headquarters is in order.   It's been over 25 years since my Grandma has passed.  I can imagine that she's probably pretty pissed that I haven't stopped by to say "hi".  I figure it's high time I rectify that.  So the next time I lace up my shoes to go for a run through the cemetery, I hope to be able to stop and check in on Grandma.

Mount Pleasant Cemetery, early morning.
copyright:  Phaedra Kennedy 2011