The Meeting Place
Sixteen years ago my company’s convention was going to be in St. Louis. When I told my father who was 81 at the time that I was traveling for the first time to his birthplace, he immediately he gave me a to do list - The Orpheum where his father, uncles and grandfather played with the St. Louis Symphony and the addresses of his grandfathers’ homes on both his father’s and mother’s side.
But then he had one special request for me. He said it was a lot to ask, but would I visit his mother’s gravesite. “I know I’m too old to ever be able to visit it and I want to know that it’s ok and well kept”
Ruth Watkins Steuterman
I knew this was very important to my father and I was worried I wouldn’t be able to pull it off.
We all knew of how he lost her to tuberculosis when he was only 8 years old. How his father didn’t handle her death well.
How he decided to go back to Washington DC and leave my dad with his grandmother. In just a couple months my father’s life changed drastically from hanging out with the mom he absolutely adored to moving to Memphis, TN and living with his stern German grandmother, uncle and aunt who were both unmarried adults not too keen for this young boy to disrupt their quiet life.
My father’s mother, Ruth Watkins, grew up in St. Louis in a very close family. She married his father, a violinist, Frank Steuterman, after a whirlwind courtship of a few weeks. Five years after my father was born, they moved to Washington when my grandfather was lucky to find a job after the crash of 1929.
Francis Johann Steuterman, Jr.
Missing her family, she became a prolific letter writer with weekly correspondence to her sister. (Years after her death, her sister sent my father all of her letters during that time. I’ve read them all, of course.)
Richard John Steuterman
What jumped off the pages was a young mother’s love of her precocious son. She fed his unending curiosity with many visits to all of the sights in Washington. She delighted in shopping for him with what little money they had and loved taking him to school.
She was honest with the struggles and frustrations with the times and everything involved in raising a son and supporting a husband. No question she loved them with everything she had and it was bittersweet for me while reading because I felt we had a lot in common in how we viewed life - I wished I had known her. It explained why he loved to take us places, especially Washington and was curious about everything.
It was just obvious that my father missed her his whole life and her death had a profound affect on him. It was probably an ingredient to my parents’ divorce and helped create his tough John Wayne persona.
I’m grateful for understanding him, as well as you can understand your complicated father, and listened to a lot of childhood stories.
When I was living with him in my 20s, he returned from a long overseas plane flight and asked, “Have you ever seen the movie Beaches?”
“With Bette Midler? Yes…” I wasn’t expecting this.
“I watched it on the plane and cried like a baby at the end - her friend reminded me of my mother - leaving her child about the same age as I was.”
So it was April of 2006, I was off to St. Louis and my father’s job was to find out exactly where her gravesite was located. Cell phones were a new thing and service was sketchy, plus, I did have meetings and trainings to attend. Just before the window for my only time I had to accomplish this, he called with the address! I walked out of the hotel and called a cab.
It was then that the journey became charmed. My cab driver, Gabriel, was Romanian and when I told him about my mission, he enthusiastically explained he understood what my father wanted. Years ago he had moved to the US with his own mother. When she passed away, they sent her back to be buried in her home country. It pained him that he couldn’t visit her gravesite.
“Your father is sending you to tell her she is not forgotten.”
We arrived at the memorial park and the woman in the office located her site in minutes and we found it easily.
Gabriel jumped out of the cab and opened his trunk. Amazingly, he had cleaning supplies and clippers. As we walked over to the site, it shocked me momentarily that it read RUTH W. STEUTERMAN which is my sister’s maiden name - I felt like George Bailey for a minute “Harry, Harry!!”
Gabriel got busy clipping the edges and cleaned the stone. It was already in pretty good shape but I so appreciated it.
I took some pictures for my father to show him how beautiful it was and put the azalea I had bought next to her name. Gabriel stepped back and said “I’m going to go back to the cab and give you a few moments - take your time” As he walked away, I thought, “What do I need a moment for? I didn’t know her, I’ve completed my task.”
I looked around and thought, “Well, maybe I should say a prayer or something…” Then I thought “What would I say to her if she were here...” And this is what I said…
“Hi there - I’m here for my Dad, your Richard. I’m sure you know, he really, really misses you! We’ve done our best to make him happy but to be honest, he just misses you so much. I have a favor to ask. When his time comes, can you please be there? All he’s ever wanted is to see you again!”
There was a breeze and I had an overwhelming feeling that she was there. I just felt it.
I thanked Gabriel for everything, especially suggesting I take a moment.
He said “If you felt her there, she was there.”
My father had left multiple messages on my phone at the hotel, he was worried something had happened to me.
See, it was April 23rd and that was the day she died - I didn’t know - it wasn’t on the marker. I still get goose bumps.
I eased his mind and told him about the whole adventure leaving out what I told her - I decided to leave that between her and me.
I did tell him that I felt her presence and he was quiet.
Then he whispered “That’s Sal for doing that for me - it meant a lot” and hung up.
Until that day, I had never understood gravesites. Now I know they are a beautiful meeting place to seek out someone you’ve lost and tell them they are in your heart and will be remembered forever.
My father passed away on February 18, 2018 and it makes me happy to know she was there for him - because she promised me she would be - I felt it!
