In Remembrance
Hi, Mom,
As I sit down to write this, my thoughts are also with friends of mine who have also lost their mothers recently. Their grief is raw and fresh, something I remember dealing with when it happened with you. All these years later, there are still moments where that grief slams back into me. Time may have brought about the means to manage it, but it doesn’t stop the tears that come or the ache in my heart that is unique to you.
Yesterday, I donated blood with your memory in mind. I’ve been a regular donor for a while now - donating was also a ‘birthday present’ to Dad, despite his continuous attempts to convince me that the sight of blood makes him woozy. Blood was never something of a major need for you, but you still saw (and felt) more than enough needles in your arms with every ER and hospital visit. Of course, Dad wasn’t exactly helpful whenever he offered the suggestion to use a larger size needle. Yet, you found a way to get through each and every time.
Today, I’ll spend the day sewing, using the sewing machine that you bought because of your reasoning at the time that if Dad could spend money on the business, you could spend money on a sewing machine. You’ll be pleased to know I’ve taken good care of the thing. It’s already made Raggedy Ann dolls and their clothes for your granddaughters and will be working on more doll clothes for the other sizes of dolls in existence. That’s how I picture you ‘spoiling’ your granddaughters. Dad may be ‘Grandpa Tootsie Rolls’ for always giving them candy, but you, as grandma, would be making doll clothes and anything else you could sew together for them to have, just as you did for me.
I’ll put on the music you liked, that I remember growing up with. Hearing the Beach Boys always makes me smile, remembering the concert at the State Fair and seeing you smiling. Kenny Rogers will remind me of concerts, too - both the one I gifted you and Dad for your anniversary one year as well as the concert I went to that marked the first anniversary of your passing. I’ll even dig out the songs of Neil Diamond and Peter, Paul and Mary that were part of the family vacation road trips.
I’ll pull out the recipe card with your handwriting to make some popovers to munch on, enjoy a piece or two of homemade fudge and remember all the times spent in kitchen, especially at the holidays. In a few months, I’ll make a batch or two of cream cheese mints to share with others and think of all those times we made cookies . . . when Dad wasn’t eating the cookie dough. I’ll think of you the next time I have a frozen coffee beverage, remembering how much you enjoyed them.
Most of all, I’ll be thinking of you, of how much I miss you and of how much I love you.
Link to last year’s letter: https://marauderswolf.livejournal.com/150070.html