Even after six years I refuse to let anything go. Of course I had to let some things go: clothes I would never wear, furniture I would never use, dishes that wouldn't fit in my cabinets. But the pictures, a charm bracelet, a sampling of her rabbit collection - I display these things with the care of a museum curator, surrounding myself with a reminder in every corner so that I insure I never start to forget. Sometimes I worry I started a long time ago.
This is a little jar from Turkey. It reminds me of the "urn" we used at the memorial. We hadn't bought one, as it didn't make since considering her ashes would be scattered. When we realized the minister would be holding the memorial over a cardboard box, I was sent with very supportive friends to purchase an urn for my mother. I refused to pick one, couldn't pick one, and finally, with more supportive coercion, settled on a jar from Pier One that looked very similar to this one. I don't know where that is now.
I bought the Ganesh statue to put by her bed at the hospital when I learned he can symbolize protection. I found her teacher snap shot at my grandmother's house recently and stuck it in my cell phone cover, and now I can't bring myself to take it out. Why should I?
She bought this fabric to be my curtains because I've always loved moon and star prints. They've been my curtains in every room I've lived in since.
I bought the yellow cow for her in Chicago when the painted cows were on display. The antique little pig holds milk and in elementary school, she would set it out beside my cereal in the morning.
In every house we lived in she hung these two things on the refrigerator. Now I do it.
We made little bumblebees with almond wings from a recipe in this book, as well as other treats.
I was terrified of losing this note so I made sure I never will. I'm ok now, and I have been for a while. But still, I can't believe it's been six years since I last talked to her. I can't believe she never looks older when I remember her. A lot of times I worry I'm going to die before 45 too and I wonder how many of my actions have been dictated by that fear. It's one of the many things I'm trying to relinquish.
5 comments:
This post made me cry. What a touching way to remember your mother. Your urn story reminds me of when my father died a week or so before Father's Day and I decided I wanted to get him a card to be buried with him. I remember crying in the aisles at Walmart with my best friend, trying to find the "perfect" card because it was the last one I would ever get him.
My dad died young too at 49, and I think lots of my decisions have been affected by that -- I'm less prone to risky stuff now.
I hope that these little mementos bring some comfort and remind you of the wonderful times you've had with your mother.
Oh Amanda. This post was so sad but touching. I had no idea your mom had died. I can't imagine ever recovering from such a loss. It seems as though its one of those things that will always hurt. I'm so sorry, even after 6 years. I love the way you honor her memory -- in such beautiful, unique, and charming ways. You are so radiant.
god, i'm tearing up. i never tear up. and i don't know what to say. that's a first, too.
but this is really beautiful amanda. your love for your mom is beautiful.
On Friday it will be a year since my mother passed away, and this post made me very sad but I'm glad to know that there's ways I can go without forgetting her. Anyway. Hope you're doing well.
Excellent post. It was poignant, touching and just beautiful
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