Family Memories....

Day 9

When I was growing up my mom and dad would only take me to church on Easter Sunday. This made me sad because I wanted to go to church every Sunday like my friends.

My dad was raised Catholic and attended Catholic Schools. My mom was raised as Methodist.

As young adults they didn't prioritize church, even though they both believed in God. This bothered me growing up because all my friends and their families went to church. I often times would tag along with my friends and their families, so I could go.

After moving to Texas both of my parents converted to Baptist. They both read the bible and attended church and their pastor was one of their best friends. 

I converted to Catholic when my oldest son was baptized. A decision my mom wasn't very happy about. My daddy didn't mind because he was raised Catholic. There is something about the Catholic religion that makes me feel at piece. I don't even agree with all the Catholic beliefs but when I enter a Catholic church I feel a special connection with God.

My husband was raised Catholic and also attended Catholic schools. When I was pregnant with my first daughter, Cassandra Sue, I found out she had hypo-plastic left heart syndrome and that she would die right after birth, unless we did a heart transplant. I did a lot of soul searching and I would go to St Margaret Mary's where John and I were married. I would sit in the church alone and pray. I prayed for the strength to get through the loss of losing my baby girl. We decided to let Cassie go to heaven rather than putting her through multiple surgeries and all the pain. We also knew the chances of getting a heart for a tiny baby were slim.

She is our family angel. She rests at Voss Mohr cemetery off of Harrison Street in Omaha, Nebraska. I send flowers multiple times a year and my sister-in-law places them for me. We decorate a mini Christmas tree each year and she places it with the grave blanket.  Cassandra would be 18 years old.

This is a poem my sister-in-laws husband wrote for me... a very nice man.

Cassie's Park

Today we go to Cassie’s Park we go to lay the wefted sheet; the Christmas love her parents give.

Today she runs amongst our minds and plays upon the hill the little girl in guarded hearts who lives amongst us still.

She never had her running start a wisp of here and gone. Denied her chance to make mistakes, a brief but shining light.

In Cassie’s Park, we stoop and brush the autumn leaves and twigs and shed a tear, we brush from cheeks all reddened from the cold.

In Cassie’s Park, in Cassie’s Park there’s a hundred years of love. Of folks who came and stayed a while and left us names in stone. The builders of our country, the merchants of our youth, the moms and dads and kith and kin; we let all our loved ones in.

But tiny tiny, amongst the trees is one be-jewelled corner where Cassie lays for all our days still loved and not forgotten.

So when your Christmas bird is cooked and laid upon your table, please raise a glass and toast the past that graces Cassie’s Park.

Johnathon, Thomas, Amanda, Aaron and me