Thanks for the link to your page about your mom, Sharyn.
Here is a link to the most recent pic I have of my mother, from last year in April. She's the one in white, next to me. Rest are my sister, my neice, and my step father.
And a story: When she was 16, my mother wanted to join a traveling troupe of synchronized swimmers. Her parents forbade it. I imagine I might not have been born if she'd done that. She still swims:
I grew up in London, Ontario, where it was very common for me to meet people and hear them say, "Hey, I know your mom -- she taught me to play the violin" (or viola, or cello...).
My mom died a year ago this past March, of a sudden unexpected illness. The responsibilities I had to take on at the time made it hard to grieve, but reading over your page for your mom let me, a little--through you.
Here is a story about my mom:
I knew that she went to a prestigious university and that she studied Russian. What I didn't know until her brother spoke at her memorial service was that she had also learned Ukranian.
Here's something my mom did for me that I've never forgotten:
I was telling her about dreams about flying (this was when I was a teenager), and about how I had such a sense of how to do it, how it started with a run and a leap, that I sometimes made attempts when I was awake, and that I had a feeling that one day, somehow, I would manage it.
She said, "Maybe one day you will."
... Feeling melancholy after reading your page on your mom, and thinking about mine, I visited your page on how to cheer yourself up. I think I'd like to combine your first two ideas and draw faces on a balloon.
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Here is a link to the most recent pic I have of my mother, from last year in April. She's the one in white, next to me. Rest are my sister, my neice, and my step father.
http://pics.livejournal.com/jess_ka/pic/000s5kre
And a story: When she was 16, my mother wanted to join a traveling troupe of synchronized swimmers. Her parents forbade it. I imagine I might not have been born if she'd done that. She still swims:
http://pics.livejournal.com/jess_ka/pic/000qhefw
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Here is a story about my mom:
I knew that she went to a prestigious university and that she studied Russian. What I didn't know until her brother spoke at her memorial service was that she had also learned Ukranian.
Here's something my mom did for me that I've never forgotten:
I was telling her about dreams about flying (this was when I was a teenager), and about how I had such a sense of how to do it, how it started with a run and a leap, that I sometimes made attempts when I was awake, and that I had a feeling that one day, somehow, I would manage it.
She said, "Maybe one day you will."
... Feeling melancholy after reading your page on your mom, and thinking about mine, I visited your page on how to cheer yourself up. I think I'd like to combine your first two ideas and draw faces on a balloon.
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( ... )
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