Laying my Mother to Rest

Goodbye sun

Hello moon

Goodbye Prairies

It has been a slice

“It has been a slice” is what my Uncle Leo had engraved on the back of his tombstone. What a great example of my family’s character .

The last 4 weeks have been a travel bonanza with my traveling to Trenton for a High school reunion followed immediately by a trip to Denver, Vancouver, Comox, Vancouver, Moose Jaw via Regina, Shamrock, Coderre, Calgary and finally back home again.

It is a rare event that I get to spend this much time on the prairies. My Mother was raised in Moose Jaw and we spent a fair amount of time there with her family in the town and with her sister and family on the farm near Swift Current. As a child of a military father who moved every one to three years this was my one home base. The one place I came back to and everything was the same. My foundation. The homes and buildings and place and most importantly the family.

My Mother was raised in Moose Jaw and met my father at Temple Gardens Dance Hall. He was there for pilot training with the military. They married at the chapel on the base and held their reception at Grant Hall in the Mezzanine. In a full circle event we decided to hold her Celebration of Life at Grant Hall 61 years later.

With my Mother’s passing earlier this year we knew we would honor her wishes to be buried alongside her parents and siblings and surrounded by other family members such as her grandparents, aunts, uncles and family friends in other parts of the graveyard. Her family, Moose Jaw and Rosedale cemetery meant the world to her. She loved her life of living and traveling the world and Moose Jaw was also her foundation. The place and relationships that made her who she was.

We needed some time to process this death and pain and waited until the right time for us and combined her internment in Rosedale with a much needed Cousin Reunion. We normally hold one every 2 years but the pandemic put a pause on that.

It was a picture perfect Prairie day with full sun and high wind as we laid my mother to rest with her living family around her and the deceased family below us. We started with a shot of baileys to break the ice. My Mom loved baileys. We also gave her a shot in the grave as per family tradition. Normally it’s whiskey for the other family members. We all laid a fresh flower atop the grave and finished with another shot of Baileys as her Grandson Justin made a beautiful toast about her love of family, caring nature and their common bond around the Andromeda galaxy. I walked away with prairie dust on my boots and knowing she is where she wanted to be was as hard as it was to leave her here.

That night we had a touching tribute to Mom to celebrate her life. We watched a slideshow of almost every picture taken of my mother. My Father spent weeks and months scanning every picture he had in photo albums to create this. A healing journey for him I think. Many stories were told, laughter and tears. She would have loved it.

The next day a number of us ventured out to the family homesteads and stomping grounds pre Moose Jaw days. Before the dirty thirties drove them from their land to move to Moose Jaw looking for better prospects. Trewdale, The Trew and Jackson homestead, Shamrock, The Bethlehem Cemetery and finally a Tavern in Coderre where my Gramps would have spent time lifting a glass and telling lies with his friends.

When we floated the idea of this family pilgrimage some said there is nothing there. We looked at the google images and there is nothing there. Trewdale was once a bustling small town with a grain elevator, school house, a post office and railway. It sprouted up around my Great Great Grandmother Trew’s farm house where she started the post office, laid out the dead, helped others in childbirth and was the social butterfly and connector of homesteading times. Safe to say this trait has continued down the line with my sister and I and many cousins also sharing this sense of community building, family, friends and connection.

What remains are a few abandoned buildings, farm equipment from the horse drawn age, some grown over and faded graves, lots of prairie grass. Truth is there was a richness to that day. Family stories, knowledge, memories, feelings that you can’t put a price on or even describe to the fullest. There is still so much there.

In fact when I spent some time with my Mothers first cousin, sister and best friend Shirley a few days later she spent hours recounting her time there as a child. Described exactly where everything was inside and out. We drew a map together. I recorded those memories. Wish I had done it years ago with all those that have already passed.

When we arrived at the Trew homestead 3 cowboys on horse appeared in front of us as if we were in a dream. Anyone who knows me knows I love cowboys. How lucky that they just happened to be passing my family’s homestead in the middle of nowhere when we arrived? Also when we walked on the property an owl flew out of the house and into a tree at the front of the property. When we were circling the house the owl flew straight at us and around the house and away. I like to think maybe my Mother had something to do with that.

It was hard to leave my Mother behind in Moose Jaw but it is where she wanted to come home to and rest and I know one day I will also do the same.