A few months before my Mother died in 2004, she had expressed that she wanted to be buried next to her mother and father in Heflin, Alabama. My brother and I wanted to do what she had asked, but it was just too expensive to do that. Also, there was already a joint gravestone made for my father and mother in Magnolia Cemetery in Greenwood, South Carolina. The only thing missing from the stone was the date of her death. There was also a burial plot for her at that cemetery, so we decided it would be best for Mother to be buried in Greenwood. Incidentally, there is one more plot in our family section in Greenwood, and that is reserved for me.
Mother loved Alabama. She was born there. She went to college there. Her college was called Alabama College. It was an all girls school. The name was later changed to the University of Montevallo. She always pulled for the University of Alabama football team (Roll Tide!). The Merrill name was synonymous with Alabama. My brother and I had agonized about our decision to bury Mother in South Carolina, so he got the idea to honor her by placing a memorial stone in the Merrill family plot at the cemetery in Heflin. It was a wonderful idea.
The plan was to do a small service at the cemetery in September, 2013. It would be an overnight stay, so I went online to search for a motel room for me. There was a motel in Heflin, but they had terrible reviews about bedbugs. I found a good motel in Oxford, Alabama which was about 20 miles away. The motel was just down the street from the old Motel Samantha, where I almost drowned in their swimming pool as a kid. I have written about that story earlier in the blog, but I am very grateful that God put that soldier there that day. My brother rented a car for me to drive to Alabama. I left on Sunday. The service was to be on Monday.
When I got to the motel in Oxford, I checked in and drove over to Heflin. If you have ever been on I-20 into Alabama from Georgia, Heflin has a sign. It is a small town and the Cleburne county seat. I drove over to where my Mother's family lived. The old house was torn down years ago and is just an empty lot. After my Grandfather died in 1958, my Grandmother built a house next door to the old homeplace. It was next door to the Heflin Baptist Church. I stopped in the parking lot and began to take pictures of the place. My Grandmother died in her home in 1969. Later, it became the law office for my Uncle Carl until his death in 2001. It was later turned into a home for helping those in need. Grandmother would have liked that. On the backside of where the old home once stood are some stone steps. I thought of my mother and a brother or two sitting on those steps. My mother would tell me stories about her friends going down to the railroad tracks and waving at the trains. The tracks were just a block from their house. I then drove down to Main Street and took pictures of the courthouse, where my Grandfather worked. He was always referred to as "The Judge", because he was. There were still some old buildings downtown that looked like history had stood still. I headed over to the cemetery and saw the graves of all of my Merrill relatives. I also saw the memorial stone for my mother. It was placed between her father and mother.
I left Heflin and drove back to the motel. While resting there, my cell phone rang. It was one of my MTRA board members wanting me to get something done. I explained to her that I was in Alabama and couldn't do anything until Tuesday. She apologized. I miss landlines.
Monday came, and I drove to the Heflin funeral home. I met my brother and sister-in-law there. Also, my Merrill cousins from Anniston were there, as well as some relatives I had never met. We drove over to the cemetery. There were some guys cutting the grass and making a lot of noise. We asked them to stop for a few minutes, but they didn't want to. They were getting paid to cut the grass. We asked them to move to another part of the cemetery, and they did. We had a short service on a cold and windy day. It was good to see my cousins. Mother would have liked it.
We were then invited to go to lunch at my cousin Martha's house on a mountainside in Anniston. Her house was huge. I brought some Merrill artifacts to give to my cousins including The Judge's walking stick and a commemorative award from FDR to my Grandmother for her work selling war bonds during World War II. We told stories about our Merrill family. There was a lot of laughter.
I was thinking about when to leave to drive home. I had to go through Atlanta but wanted to avoid the rush hour traffic. Since Alabama is one hour behind Georgia, I had to figure the time carefully. I said my goodbyes and estimated that I would get to Atlanta around 3pm. All was great, until I reached Atlanta. A truck had run into a church bus. All lanes on I-20 were blocked. So much for planning. I got home late, but it was a great time. Mother would have liked it.
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