Easter, my second mother
I hope I don't regret this thread. I'm baring my soul a bit.
From 1958 to 1991, Easter worked at my home as a maid. She was African-American. She was born in 1920, so she had experienced Jim Crow in full intensity.
Easter truly loved me. She hugged me. She kissed me. She cooked for me. She asked about me. She worried about me. " Steebie ", she used to call me. I loved that woman. I truly did. I cried when she died, and went to her funeral service at her church.
Of course, she was not my mother. My own mother died in 2007. However, Easter did a lot for me, out of the goodness of her huge heart. She was a long-suffering soul, having a daughter who, apparently, had many problems. Her daughter was very very grief-stricken when she passed.
Ok, I'm rambling now. My family did as much as we could for her, because we all cared for her. Could we have done more ? I suppose. Hindsight is always 20/20.
Hopefully this thread will help one person. I hope so. It is done with all good intents.
Have a good day, sincerely.
Steve
= new reply since forum marked as read
She was adorable and had that way about her that filled the house with love.
Sometimes it was tough love.
Good memories all around.
