I have no words.
Two years ago, I lost my mom.
In our family room hangs her oil painting of me in the redwoods when I was a child. On our kitchen drainboard sit the orchids I got after going to an orchid show with her and dad. Outside our kitchen window, the muted chimes resemble those in the gentle tree guarding where she rests. And the moon watches over all.
They all remind me of mom.
Yet, it’s not just things that do.
When I iron a shirt, when I cook a favorite recipe, when I mop the floor and make my bed.
She taught me how to do all these; they remind me of mom.
But it’s not just housework.
When I send a card, when I take the time to help, when I volunteer, when I say a kind word, when I’m at my very best.
That’s my mom. That’s who I remember.
And I’m thankful.
Visiting my childhood home to celebrate a graduation, I found mom’s unfinished knitting where she left it. I’m sure mom had plans for it to be under someone’s Christmas tree.
In honor of mom, I’m learning how to make washcloths, but I’m using crocheting. It’s more difficult than it looks.
At the end of every year, I review the pictures I’ve posted here and choose my favorites.
The pics are in chronological order — this was my year.
Here’s my favorite animation from the year.
Do you have a favorite?
The pics are from the following posts:
Six months ago I sat on the bed where my mom lay. I told her I loved her and was so glad that she was my mom. I gave her a hug and a kiss. And I went downstairs to play the music she had set out on the piano while the hospice nurse remained.
I hope she felt the love that filled her home.
I am thankful I had visited recently and had been able to take so many business trips to visit Folsom and spend the nights at mom’s and dad’s place. I am thankful for others who had also been around her, giving her support and their love.
I’m still figuring out how to live without mom.
Off my parents’ deck are beautiful oak trees. It’s a heavenly view.
I’ve taken pictures here before.
For a little more than a week, I’ve been walking daily with my dad at a nearby neighborhood park. We shoot the breeze, count the geese, and time our steps. Today the weather was so nice we decided to lengthen our route to the park’s eastern perimeter.
As we walked, my dad said, “We’re coming up to mom’s favorite spot.” I was noticing the flowering trees to the right and wondered if they were it, but we walked right on by. Then I saw a bench up ahead to the right of the path. This was her spot — and this is the view.
I have to agree with mom — this is a special place. :-)
A man lingers
By a casket still
Filled with love
For the woman
--Brent Logan (2017)
Flow gently into the breach
That cannot be filled.
--Brent Logan (March 22, 2017)
Today I begin to learn how to live without my mom. This isn’t going to be easy. She was a special, spunky person and we are all better for having known and loved her.
Rest in peace, mom.
Happy Mothers’ Day to the greatest mom ever! I love you, mom. :-)