There were things she wanted me to have, including a few things I had made and given to her years ago. This hand-dyed wool pillow I made for her over fifteen years ago was one of those things. I remember the time I spent stitching on it like it was yesterday. I even added our initials to each bottom corner, and I couldn't wait to surprise her with it! It sat for years on her bed at home and I know how much she liked having it.
But there are only so many personal things you can take with you into a small room that becomes your living and sleeping quarters, so choices had to be made. I understand, but I couldn't help but be a little sad.
In the boxes of things she had set aside for me were all the letters I'd ever written to her and the photo albums I mailed to her to show her what I was creating, how our grandchildren were growing and thoughts I wanted to share with her. Seeing all of these things in the box bothered me more. I know that it was out of consideration for the photos that they were returned to me, but it somehow felt like something was coming to an end. I don't think I can explain it any better than that.
There were other things, too. Items I will treasure that meant something to Mom. Things I can now treasure in our home. I know that this pillow will sit in a special place where I can see it every day, and reminisce on the nearly forty years of friendship we've shared.
I'll continue to send letters and photographs to her when we're apart. I'll spend as much time as I'm able with her when I'm in Wisconsin. It's not the end. It's just a new beginning, but I think in some ways it will be as uncomfortable and sad for me as it is for her.
Life will go on, Dear Heart. It will just be different. I love you, Mom.


