by Emilie Grace

Created on: September 25, 2007

There is one road trip I'll never forget. It wasn't the typical two hour drive to my pap-paw's farm. No, during those trips, I remember fighting with my younger brother who got to sit in the front seat, what radio station we were going to listen to, and counting down the time to our destination by watching the cow population grow as we neared our pap-paw's house.

This trip was different. For one thing, my mom wasn't driving. In fact, she wasn't even in the van with us. This time it was dad driving. And, my brother and I weren't alone anymore. Now, we had our spouses seated with us. My mom had just passed away a day earlier. We were on our way up to her hometown to meet with her father and sister to discuss funeral arrangements.

The drive up was horrible. Two hours of nothing but silence. No music, no complaining about seats, and who really cared about those stupid cows? I sat in the front seat fighting tears, but letting one slide down my cheek every now and then. I was trying to stay strong for my father, and my brother. My head was filled with horrible images, and my emotions were pounding inside my heart.

After what seemed like a four hour drive, we finally arrived. There were many tears, emotions, hugs, and stressful sighs released upon reconnecting with mom's family. We poured through pictures. We discussed flowers, viewing times, and burial. What music would be played? What scripture to be read? This was indeed turning out to be the hardest road trip of my life.

The next day, we all loaded back up into the van to make our journey home. But, there was something different this time. As we drove down the gravel hill from pap-paw's house to the main road, I began to remember the happy times. I spoke up, and recalled one of mom's many tales of growing up in her hometown. Heading down the road, soon my father and brother piped in with a memory. It wasn't fifteen minutes into our road trip home, that the van was filled with smiles and sweet family memories. Those next two hours flew by as we recalled momma doing Red Skelton impersonations as a child to get out of garden work, and upstaging her older sister's piano recital by crawling beside her and singing with her puppet. We listened to mom's favorite Gaither Homecoming cds, and joked of always telling momma that she was indeed an old woman now that she was listening to the Gaithers.

This was indeed a hard road trip, but it was a road trip that helped my family communicate when we were in need of each other the most.

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