By Elaine Carlson

"There is no death, daughter. People die only when we forget them,' my mother explained shortly before she left me. 'If you can remember me, I will be with you always." Isabel Allende

I hope what Allende said is true. In November it will be twenty years since my mother died --- 21 days before what would have been her 92nd birthday. My memories of her have not died.

Several months ago my father's sister Aunt Esther died. She was the last person in her family of six (parents, two sisters and two brothers) and the last of my aunts and uncles to die. Eighteen years ago my mother's brother Uncle Ralph died. I don't know how old he was but he was the one who survived the longest in his family of five (parents, two sisters and one brother).

In the family it is not just my grandparents, parents, aunts and uncles who have died. Four of my fifteen cousins are gone. But I guess at my advanced age (I am in my seventies) I should know that there is nothing unusual about people dying.

The other day I went through a box of letters my mother saved. Many were from people she met when she had been traveling. One woman started her letter by saying "We are alike" because they both had four children and they lost their husbands very early.

I was six, my brothers were three and four, and my sister was one when our father died in an automobile accident. That woman's children were not so young --- the older ones were in high school when their father died.

The woman thought they should be proud because their children had "grown up right." She gave a brief rundown of where three of them were living and what they were doing. She went on to say one "is at [I couldn't read the handwriting] but I am able to visit him." It is very hard for me to contemplate the back story.

Also in that box was a letter she had written to me. She said. "George is a pleasant man and he will be able to help you. It is just that I worry because he drinks so often. That might cause you difficulties." I guess she didn't send me that letter because I told her we had broken up.

I had forgotten about George but now I remember how happy I was when he left. And his heavy drinking was not the only bad aspect of his character. He was not violent and never hurt me with his fists. But he was selfish. He always wanted to decide what we would eat and when he was finished watching television he would turn off the set even though I was watching. I don't see how my mother thought he ever would want to "help" me.

What most people remember about my mother is that she wrote good letters. Her handwriting was beautiful and she wrote newsy and thoughtful letters. And she would always send thank you letters.

Once the day before Thanksgiving a man from the American Legion came by and gave her a box for the holiday meal. There was everything in it --- a large turkey, a box of cranberries, white and sweet potatoes, a loaf of bread and --- well you get the idea. The American Legion asked the school nurse for the names of people who might need a Holiday Basket. She told them about the widow and her four children.

Soon she wrote a thank you letter to the American Legion Post. The Commander told her she was the first person who had ever sent them a thank you letter. .

I have decided that "People die only when we forget them" is correct. I had a lot of good relatives when I was growing up. And remembering them and keeping them alive is almost as important as taking those steps for my mother.

Uncle Ralph and his wife Aunt Peggy always loved Christmas; together they put on the most wonderful holidays anyone could ever want. She loved to cook and their house would be filled with homemade cookies and candy.

Once they came to visit us when I had just lost a tooth. Uncle Ralph put me in their car and drove me to the local Five and Dime Store so I could spend the money the Tooth Fairy had left (a grand total of 35 cents). I had enough money to buy a tiny car and it was red.

In my thirties I bought a pair of overalls. I always liked wearing them with a pretty blouse. I was sure I was a good example of Stylish Casual. But after I washed them a few times they shrank. The suddenly high-water pants were simply unwearable. I told Aunt Peggy the problem and she used some material she had on hand to sew on some nice cuffs. I was able to wear them for another year or so.

Their son my cousin Johnny is a year younger than me and I forget when he died --- I think more than twenty years ago. When he was five or six he loved to wear a Davy Crockett Hat.

The two of us would roam around the woods near his house. Once he took pictures of old dilapidated houses with the camera his parents gave him for his birthday. He said he liked taking pictures of old houses.

Maybe what Allende said is just a matter of wishful thinking. But anyway I get a lot of pleasure from having these memories. I don't need to have a reason to keep memories alive.