“It wasn’t long after the New Year’s Eve celebrations to welcome in 1997 had ended that the Hayes and Ashton clans were whooping it up again. I celebrated my one-hundredth birthday in January, 1997. That certainly was a reason to bring about festivities. I was so tickled to have made it that far and to think that I was still in good physical and mental condition and living in my own home. The children did things to help me out and make that possible, but generally speaking, I was still going strong.
I welcomed the idea of having a party to celebrate the big milestone. After all, I wasn’t so sure that I would be around long enough to have another birthday. My years were numbered, so to speak. I guess that can be said for everyone, but for me, coming on to being five score, it was more imminent. I’d had the good fortunate to be on the green side for that long. Who was to say how long my time would last?
We had put on a huge celebration four years earlier when my sister Eva had gotten to the same marker. She had been somewhat frailer that I, but she was still kicking. Her family had rented the seniors’ hall and had made it a day to remember. She couldn’t have been happier. All of us who had been able to join her on that wonderful occasion enjoyed it immensely, too. One week later she died in her sleep. Died a happy woman, I feel. She had had the chance to visit, and laugh, and reminisce with her friends and loved ones that one last time. What a happy note to say good-bye on. We should all be so lucky!
My children had brought up the idea of having a big shindig to celebrate my hundredth birthday at our annual Canada Day party, back in July. They were so adamant about arranging one, that I couldn’t have changed their minds if I had wanted to. Of course, I was in total agreement, so they got busy and started making arrangements. Nothing too formal or lavish, I kept reminding them all. I’ve always just liked to keep things simple.
I never asked too many questions because they just kept saying it was all being taken care of. Jackie and Jacob’s wife, Nancy, took care of most of the details. Of course, they’re the ones that are closest. They’re real dears. I can’t help but love them both immensely. Sweet girls they be. I guess I shouldn’t be calling them girls anymore. They’re both senior citizens now. Anyway, they looked after most of the affairs regarding my big extravaganza. Did a fine job, I might add.
The only task that they gave me to do was to purchase a new dress suitable for the occasion. Now that in itself was a real chore. It seems the retail industry doesn’t feel there is a huge clothing market for one-hundred year old women, unless it’s open-backed. They took me into the city to a huge shopping mall to help me pick one out. My sakes, we went to so many stores that my head started to spin. Not much appealed to me. Most styles these days are more appropriate for the younger generations. Anyway, I did finally find one and we had a nice outing.
My biggest concern was knowing what sort of weather Mother Nature would throw at us on that January weekend. Driving in the winter on our northern roads is not always such a treat. When we get high winds or flakes start to fall, things can turn ugly fast. I knew that there would be quite a few guests that had a fair distance to travel up from the southern corridor, and I was worrying for their safety.
Thank goodness the weather co-operated. It turned out to be a nice sunny winter day. Somewhat frigid if I recall, but not a snowflake fell from the heavens. John was even able to make the trip. He and his wife flew into Toronto and then hitched a ride north with Murray. I was so surprised. I hadn’t figured that they’d be able to make it, coming that distance and all. Anyways, they all pulled in on the Friday and bunked with me.
You must understand my excitement. By 1997 all my children were part of the O.A.S. club just like me. We were all on the old age pension. The first twins, Murray and Mary Beth, were eighty-one, James was seventy-seven, John and Charity were seventy-five, Janice was seventy-three, and my babies, Jacob and Jackie, were sixty-six. My sakes, that’s a hard concept for a ma to consider. We were all getting up in years, and some of the children had more ailments than me.
All of my siblings were gone by this time. I was the last of my own family. Eva and I were the only ones to see one-hundred. We were made of tough stuff, I guess, or maybe just too stubborn. I was excited to still be around to celebrate at any rate. I remember feeling melancholy about aging when I turned seventy. I didn’t see any real joy in getting older back then, but once I got a few more decades under my belt, I was just thankful to be alive. Every day is a gift, and as long as you can stay healthy, you’re thankful for each one.
I knew that Jackie had left the decorating of the hall up to some of you granddaughters. She made the remark to me that she had mentioned to some of you girls that I always found inspiration in my summer gardens. I don’t think she gave you any specifics, though, did she?”
“No, Mom just said that you loved your gardens and really liked wild daisies. She said to keep it simple, but eloquent. That was all the instructions we got.”
“Well, when you and your cousins dropped by my house the weekend prior to the party for a visit and asked to borrow some of my memorabilia, photos, and keepsakes, I knew it was for the party. I had no idea, though, what you had planned. You all played pretty coy. We sure did have a great visit and did lots of reminiscing. I enjoyed that visit immensely, and I was certainly overwhelmed by your decorating efforts.
When I arrived at the hall with Murray and Mary Beth on that Saturday afternoon, I was absolutely astounded! Every corner of the hall was set up like a little flower garden. Amidst the array of beautiful blossoms was an assortment of pictures and trinkets. Every little garden had a theme. The one that especially pulled on my heart strings was my childhood garden. It was mostly made up of daisies and wild flowers and filled with pictures of my childhood years. Pictures of me with Ma and Pa and the rest of the brood. Peeking out from the daisies was “Bertha”, the little rag doll Ma had made me for my fourth birthday. I was overwhelmed. I had forgotten that I still had her.
As a young girl I had always loved the wild field daisies that grew rampant in Pa’s hay fields each summer. Dawn, Rose, Eva, and I would spend hours romping in the daisies, picking bouquets for Ma. When we were older, Eva and I would wander about in a wistful, dreamy mood selecting individual daisies and pluck off the petals one at a time saying, “He loves me, he loves me not.” Oh, what sweet memories!
There were gardens depicting every chapter of my life. One for Jed and me. One for Royce and me, and, of course, one for Logan and me. There was a separate garden for all my travels, too. Our Cape Breton trip, our British Columbia trip, and my Memphis trip were the highlights. It was a simple idea and absolutely stunning. I was so touched by your thoughtful tribute. I blubbered the whole time I spent walking down memory lane admiring each little garden. Wow! You granddaughters had out done yourselves. You had hung streamers and balloons tastefully all around the hall, and a huge big banner was strung across the stage to finish it off. Everyone remarked on your hard work and ingenuity. I couldn’t have been happier, or prouder of each one of you.
With all the clan together, there were well over two-hundred people at the supper meal. With nine children, thirty-eight grandchildren, sixty-one great grandchildren, and a handful of great-great grandchildren, and all their spouses, it doesn’t take long to fill a room. I’ll tell you one thing. I’m real glad I didn’t have to peel the potatoes for that crowd! The Legion Ladies did it up real fine. The meal was wonderful.
Lots more folks dropped in with well-wishes and joined the fun after the supper meal. The hall was overflowing. It proved to be a good old-fashioned get-together. There were cocktails and speeches. It turned into a Savannah Faye Hayes roast, so to speak. What a hoot! Everyone enjoyed their share of laughter and tears. I facetiously made the comment in my speech that when I came into the hall earlier that afternoon and saw all the flowers, I thought that someone had died. I had actually said something to that effect to Mary Beth when we got to the hall. She had reassured me that I was still very much alive.
The children had made up a slide show of my life, as they knew it, with an edge of humour, of course. Dug up some real good pictures they did. Better tribute than the local funeral home puts on for you after the fact. It was a real celebration of my life. I was so glad to be there to enjoy it!
I was surprised that so many people came out to join the festivities. I was touched. I hadn’t realized that I had made such an impression on so many people. I hadn’t seen some of them for years. It brought back a lot of great memories.
Some of my family members had brought their musical instruments with them. They treated everyone to a good selection of familiar tunes. Some folks got up to dance and kick up their heels. Others clapped their hands and sang along. It was positively superb. What a grand party it was, indeed. A real celebration to remember. I’m so grateful to my family for giving me such a wonderful, wonderful day. I would have died a happy woman should I have departed shortly thereafter.
I look back now with such fond memories of that perfect day. It was the last time my whole crew was together. My Mary Beth died of a heart attack within the year. She dropped dead making supper one night. She was gone, just like that. What a blessing for her. It was a real shocker for the rest of us, though. It was tough news for a mother to receive.
Murray passed away with cancer thirteen months later. Took him fast, it did. He was gone a month after his diagnosis. He was too far gone before they found it. He had time to get his affairs in order and say his last good-byes to his family. Then he was gone. Broke my heart, it did, to lose my two firstborn. Life isn’t supposed to be that way. It’s not the natural order at all. They had been Jed’s only legacy. Words just can’t tell the pain it brought to say that final good-bye.
I remember thinking that I was well over a hundred and ready to go. I’d had a great life and had done a lot of living. I couldn’t figure out why my time hadn’t come. I had to bury three husbands and three children. Surely, it was time for me to leave soon. A body gets weary after enduring so much heartbreak and pain of grief, but yet I remained. I was five score. How much more?