My great aunt was truly one-in-a-million. I had the privilege of meeting her in the summer of 2001.
Although she was very creative and had won more than one award for her beautiful quilting, she was known and remembered for her love, caring, kindness and compassion. “Love” was her middle name, which, following family tradition, was the name she went by. She wrote poetry and collected it as well. The poem below was one she had sent to me, and for some reason, seemed fitting:
The Dash Between the Dates
Memorial Day was over now,
All had left and I was alone
I began to read the names and dates
Chiseled there on every stone.
The dates which showed whether it was Mom or Dad,
Or daughter or baby son.
The dates were different, but the amount the same,
There were two on every one.
It was then that I noticed something,
It was but a simple line;
It was the dash between the dates
Placed there, it stood for time.
All at once it dawned on me
How important that little line was.
The dates placed there belonged to God,
But that line is yours and mine.
It’s God who gives this precious life,
And God who takes away;
But that line between He gives to us
To do with what we may.
We know God’s written the first date down,
Of each and every one.
And as we know those hands will write again,
For the last date has yet to come.
We know He’ll write the last date down,
And soon, we know know for some.
But, upon the line between my dates,
I hope He’ll write “well done”.
Her line says “well done”.
7136 Stagecoach Rd., Whitesburg, TN 37891