We set out in the car and take the local route. Following the river, we pass through small cities and towns in various stages of development. Some, like mine, once abandoned or left in disrepair, now show signs of life, propagated by the many transplants from Brooklyn and other boroughs. Thanks to them we will have a maker’s holiday market this year. Our new old car has heated leather seats that keep me warm. Slow jazz repetitions accompany us when we take this journey, lulling me into a tenuous sense of security. At the end of the drive is my mother.
She is now in the last stages of dying. Unlike the usual brisk, taking care of business approach to her life, she’s taking her time with her death. Each week she does less. She rarely speaks, no longer eats, and takes only sips of fluid. Now, rather than stay busy with reading, doing her crosswords, and praying novenas for her children (and anyone else who needs them), she sleeps. The crystal rosary I brought her from a cathedral in Strasbourg three years ago no longer sends out sparks of light as her fingers animate it, moving through the beads. There are no more murmured Hail Mary’s; only sorrowful mysteries. As I tidy up her room, I come upon a woven china basket she’s had for as long as I can remember. It’s one of the few artifacts of her life she brought to this place when she arrived six years ago. She fills it with Mass cards for those who have taken this path before her. Her sisters, their husbands, her parents, her friends, her nephew, and my father. Her card will complete the pile. My stomach contracts; my generation is next. Hospice began this week.
Two generations behind me, and three generations behind my mother, my granddaughter remains exempt from this waiting for death. She is full of only one thing right now; the incredible excitement that for children is Christmas. She reminds me urgently that I must get a tree this year, put up decorations and find pride of place for the two tiny gingerbread houses she made for Thanksgiving. Instead of slow jazz, she wants me to play Christmas music, as loud and celebratory as the volume controls allow. She tells me I must be ready because Santa will come to my house too. Last year I got away with opting out of decorating because I had just moved, but this year with a determination reminiscent of my mother’s, it’s clear she will tolerate no excuse.
There are cookies to bake for the neighbors who brought us plants when we arrived, left vegetables from their gardens during the summer and apple turnovers when it was apple picking time this fall. It’s my turn to return their neighborly hospitality and acknowledge the gifts that were given that eased the adjustment to our new community and home. It would be easy for me to evade these responsibilities by simply explaining I am too busy witnessing the passing of my mother, but it would disappoint her if I offered that as an excuse. After all, she remained present, living and loving as she experienced the death of all those she loved. After my father died, she allowed herself to become our greatest comfort.
We buy a Christmas tree, a live one, in a big red tub. Determined to re-use it as our tree every year, we bought a variety that while a small tree now, can grow up to eight feet tall. Then it will need to be planted outside unless we want to stunt it’s future growth. In crafting our decorations, we choose life and re-birth. I have cranberries to string, pine cones gathered from under our towering white pines, evergreen and boxwood garlands to weave between the spokes of our staircases, inside and out. All these materials will return as compost to the earth where they will reconstitute and regenerate providing rich soil for future growth. The smell of Christmas comes into my house and from this I experience a burst of joy amidst the sadness.
After our trips to visit my mother, we stop at thrift and vintage stores looking for ornaments that have lived a life on other people’s trees. I sift through baskets of them like I’m on a treasure hunt. Now they will be re-born on our tree and someday packed up and given to my granddaughter for her own tree, in her own home. I hang foil-covered balls of chocolate ornaments that will disappear as they are plucked from the tree and eaten. I search for a cookie recipe that is festive but not too difficult as my kitchen is, like me, in the process of renovation. I decide on a rich, soft chocolate one topped with shards of crumbled candy canes. Everything triggers a memory of my mother these days and I remember chocolate mint is one of her favorite flavors. I see the long narrow boxes of chocolate dinner mints she bought for holiday tables. I can almost taste the refreshing jolt of the mint, waking you up and reminding you are alive. As she aged, her favorite treat was York Peppermint Patties, and we all brought her bags of them; always disappearing before the next visit.
My mother and my granddaughter, wiser than me, are teaching me how to continue living life when one is in the company of death. My Christmas tree tells me that life goes on, we will continue to grow and strengthen each year. My ornaments say there will be a new purpose for you when this time is over though some familiar and loved things will disappear. The evergreens and boxwoods reveal that nature allows us to reconstitute and become something new; to nurture those that come behind us. While one life ends, others go on and for those, we must remain present. It’s the nature of things they all tell me; life goes on.
What lessons about life are you learning this holiday season?
I am learning to be calm and kind to myself and to find the joy in serving others in a quiet way. What a lovely story you tell.
Service to others has always taken me through every challenge I’ve faced in my life. I have oftne gotten back even more than given.
Just adored this. Lovely to hear your thoughts…x
Thank you for this most personal thoughtful and reflective writing of the past, present, and future. I’ve experienced these moments and reflections. Last week I flew from my current home in Utah’s mountains to NYC and to my child hood home filled with memories in Pleasantville and Hawthorne. Then with my 50 year old daughter and my granddaughter in her twenties we navigated my emotions through times past. We visited the Greeley house in Chappaqua where my grandmother was born, the house my grandfather built us, my beloved Scarborough School, while I shared memories. Eventually arriving at the graves of my parents and all my grandparents in Peekskill, NY. Time passes, I’m home in my Utah mountain now, ready for Christmas and in person dinners with friends.
Rejuvenated by my trip, I am settling down on a new day with the first falling snow to write a memoir in 2022 of my blessed life. I anticipate remembering and writing for future generations and this fills me with hope during this season of light and love.
God bless you Lynn, during this time of change and transition.
Ellen, I enjoyed reading “Life Goes On,” a story that is about all of us. I too am working on my memoir–more off than on. Sometimes I act like I have time, but only God knows what time I have. So I have to remind myself to get it on…
Learning how I am blessed with my family and life and how to cherish it even if it not what I think it should be at the moment. Guess we are always learning or it least should be. Also 🙏 continued strength for you
He who refreshes others, will himself be refreshed.
What a wonderful tribute to your Mom as you go through this difficult time! Your writing is so inspiring! I also remember those York Peppermint Patties my Mom
so loved. I am glad you have your granddaughter close by to show you how life does goes on with her excitement for Christmas….that is the one thing I am missing so terribly.
As I read this, I think of my Mom who passed away eight years ago. She had dementia. I spent two years taking care of her when I retired. Now I am spending time with my friend who lost her husband of 50 years to the same dementia. I am glad I had that time with my mom. What you said here in this blog brought back memories, as to similar thoughts and things surrounding that time. My friend and I often talk reflect on life, and the challenges we face. I am more understanding of others feeling when facing these challenges in life. Thank you for this!!!
Thank you for sharing your story. I cherish every moment of these few months as challenging as they were. There is something that feels very holy about it.
What a beautiful article.
Thank you so much.
Your thoughtful and evocative piece resonates very strongly with me as it somewhat mirrors my own situation. Beautifully articulated, thank you, Lynn.
A beautifully written piece, as always. Love & peace.
I had similar experiences with the passing of my beloved father. Death taught me to live!
Thank you for this post at this time! I’m away from my family, in another state, caring for my sister who is on a similar journey as your mother. Thank you for reminding me that the holidays are still worth celebrating, even more so as grief and the anticipation of sorrow nears.
Take good care of yourself this holiday season. This is hard work and self-care is even more important than ususal.
What a great outlook, I really enjoyed this story. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you so much.
Thank you for sharing your journey. My mother passed away this year, as much as she was determined not to. I now treasure the little Momentos I have from her life, wearing her ring, lying under her handmade throw, saving them for my daughter next. Stay warm and content.
What a beautiful tribute to your mother, to Christmas spirit, to life. Happy holidays Lyn.
Life goes on indeed.
Thank you, Happy holidays to you.
This is so totally beautiful and my heart is full after reading your words. Here in Michigan, I live close to Oxford, where 4 children lost their lives lives to a gun in the hands of another child. It is as if a blanket of dark sadness has fallen on this entire area. Life does go on, but here, it will never be the same. These words are poignant and a reminder that life has moments of great joy despite deep sorrow. We feel it all. Single moments of deep intense emotion are going to come and go…just like the lights and trees of the season. We must feel them all. Human beings do this. Deep peace to you…
What a tragedy for your community and for the country. I am so sorry for this great loss to your community.
Your sharing the yin and yang of birth/death of your Mother/memories of times past is hauntingly similar to my own… experience… thank you and enjoy everything!
I cry reading your words feeling the loss of a child myself. Someone once asked me how I got through the loss of my daughter. I told her that you just cry and suffer your way through it. Time passes and it doesn’t hurt so much. When I would become overwhelmed in my thoughts I would go outside and hear the birds, traffic, and lawnmowers and know that the world was still going on. Life continues.
Beautiful sentiments – thank you for sharing your grief and inspirations! Bless you.
This was beautiful and so related to my current situation as I watch my grandson grow up and watch my own mother diminish. Thanks for a lovely perspective.
That traditions, while important, must adapt to who we are at each point in our lives. Guilt for not continuing one is a useless and harming emotion.
I so feel for you as I too am witnessing the passing of my mother’s memories and joy. It’s hard knowing that life is waning, while at the same time wishing for her to have peace and comfort as she goes on her journey. Blessings to you
I put up the entire array of decorations again this year even though it’s just me and my husband. At 71 he is still the kid who loves the lights and snow people on the staircase. I grumble at the work, but when it’s done, I remember why. That’s Christmas enough right there and I am profoundly grateful to experience it. Thank you and may God give you comfort in the days ahead.
That you cant stop death. Enjoy the season enjoy your family. Enjoy your decorations…..
My motto is live one day at a time…dont worry about tomorrow…God is in control of everything……Merry Christmas…….
I’m so sorry. I remember so clearly the last days of my father’s life. His life was ebbing as spring was waking up the earth around us, and the flowers he so dearly loved to photograph. Being there was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. My thoughts are with you, and I wish you strength and resilience in the days to come. It sounds like you have everything you need. <3
Such a beautiful tribute to your mother and family. Thank you for this.
My heart is heavy for you as I read your beautiful words. I too have walked the path you are on and recall those feelings. May peace and comfort surround you and your family as you continue your journey. Yes life does go on…..with love.
Thank you! I needed to read this because I lost my mother over a year ago. However, I gained a beautiful grandson 10 months ago. Thank you for reminding me that life goes on and to continue the traditions for the next generation. I have a renewed energy for the Christmas season. I know that the season reminds us a true gift, which is Jesus Christ. Throughout this season, I will definitely keep your blog close to my memory.
I cried as I read this post, it reminds me of my mother’s passing about 10 days before Christmas 6 years ago, hospice coming in about 7 days before her passing and taking such wonderful care of her. May all your memories be a blessing and life goes on but is never the same. There is a relief that your loved one is no longer suffering but the emptiness of life without your loved ones never goes away. Thankfully you have a granddaughter to bring you some joy.
Your heartbreakingly beautiful entry brings me comfort. I, too, am experiencing both the joyful growth of grandchildren juxtaposed against the sad shrinkage of my mother. My own child is struggling and it is my mother’s influence on me that is holding my fragile family together and infusing hope for a brighter 2022. Hope, I’ve discovered, is the key to putting one foot in front of the other and savoring the simple joys that are bestowed upon us each day, many of which went unrecognized in the flurry of activity pre-covid life.
Lovely! You have hit on sentiments I’m feeling this second pandemic Christmas. Hoping we all continue to find joy as life continues its never ending change. ❤️
Thank you for this beautiful sharing. Love at its finest.
I felt your pain through your words—words that touched me and all your many followers, I’m sure. It brought back the memories of my own mother dying on February 29, 2016. She was in hospice care in the assisted living place where she had lived for six years, like your mom. As your mother transitions, I will be thinking of you, your mother, my mother and all the mothers before us. A sad time for you, but also a rebirth of who she was, how she touched other’s lives and the memories you will carry in your heart. Sending you endless blessings and love and thank you for sharing your life with us. You inspire so many and teach us even more.
Thank you for sharing your soul…change also comes in my home, but there is comfort in the small same..happy Christmas 🎄
I’m learning that life if “truly” short and it’s not just a cliche, but the truth. And I’m being more focused and cognizant of what is really, really important to me in this life.
Oh Lynn, I had a similar experience with my own mother six years ago, when she died at the
age of 92. We had so many wonderful experiences together. Traveling, shopping, eating, riding our bikes, cross-country skiing. We would take the train to Chicago from Milwaukee to shop. We would have lunch at Neiman-Marcus for their delicious popovers. So many good memories. On her last day on earth, a young woman from the hospice came to her room with her guitar. As I lay on the bed, holding Mom in my arms, she played “Sentimental Journey,” SO beautiful. I will treasure those moments forever. I am very fortunate to have had Mom all those years.
Dear Lyn, I am very moved by your post. I lost both of my parents in the past two years–my father almost a year ago, on December 24, from Covid. What a journey all this has been. We did an unveiling ceremony with our extended family for their headstone this past Sunday. I have my daughter’s family still staying with us, a lovely visit of almost 2 weeks. Having my small granddaughters here (one is 2 1/2, the other 3 months old) is a huge gift as I move through this particular stage of grieving and at the same time, try to embrace the winter holidays. In our case that is mostly Chanukkah, and it was so sweet to light the menorah every evening together, and to make our Shabbat dinners. When they leave next Tuesday I will throw myself into my personal creative activities again and that will also be a solace, I think. And through this time, I will be thinking of you and your mother, and your granddaughter, as you move through this time of huge transition.
I think your mother’s last prayer is herself easing gently away. My brother died on Sunday and I experience that deep sadness while preparing Christmas for my grown up children and baby grandchildren… life’s great rollercoaster. ❤️ Peace
Beautifully written. Thank you for sharing.
Enjoy your column and learn from your reflections.
Beautifully written. I shared w two friends experiencing the slipping away of loved ones. Take Care L.
What can I say lovely Lyn other than my thoughts are with you on this journey where you will say goodbye soon. Thankfully you have such clear memories of many other Christmases with your dear mother. We who loved deeply and cared so much always do. My own left at age 91, sixteen years ago. I traveled home to England, just making it the day prior to her passing – they told her I was coming and she waited. Still, never a day goes by without something small and significant reminds me of her.
Blessings to you and your loved ones – that granddaughter has it all together by sound of it – and may your little tree grow each year for many years ahead.
Happy Christmas – Mary
P.S. Love the photo!
Ms Lyn, From where did your mother come? During a particularly warm fall through Christmas time in 2016, I was with my mother as much as I could while working f/t; I went to stay at her side for a week or more frequently, up until her death. Slowly the acceptance crawled around my throat and choked out the childish hope I could fix, save, make her healthy, and live longer. Gently with the last strength she had, we hugged and repeated over and over in each other’s ears I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you until no words no longer came out and only feeling. Slowly she sunk into a bed set up for her in the living room that only carried a fraction of my mother’s body from not eating and just sipping. And then out of the blue, just as my cousin warned me, she’d look up across the room where no one visible was there, reach out, smiled and reacted like she saw, well, a ghost. A loving ghost of someone who was bringing her to the other side. Afterwards, my mother looked at me from her pillow and said “I want to go home… I want to go home” Mom, I replied, you are home… you are here. She said to me this is a temporary place before home…
I’m going home soon. We had no Christmas tree in her home, Pop was a mess with the only sparkly thing in his life slipping away before his blurred Bourbon filled eyes. He couldn’t believe his wife, my mom, of 61 years was leaving him for good. She slipped out on December 15th. She was all gone but for the last beats of her heart at 5pm when the caretaker for us told my cousin to open the window a bit to allow her spirit so full, raw, rich with the life that was hers to find a way out of this temporary life. The early evening looked dark with first sight of the moon so full and lit up the night before. As the caretaker gently held her pulse, the last gentle throb slipped under her thumb until no more and my mom was free of this life. I’m older, still have two girls. A teen and pre-teen who went from a dark weekend of tears, angelic singing of Ava Maria that still pierces my soul when I think of my mom, and the lowering of the mahogany. The first fist thrown dirt. The leaving. Then the living room where I replayed Ava Maria with my family over and over and over again… me and my daughters dancing like it was life or death had we not expressed our sorrow. On the drive back to New England, we cried and laughed and cried again…all the way into a Christmas Tree farm where we chose the fattest tree to brighten my girls’ days. The lights shimmered brightly that Christmas and the fires in our fireplace had more letters to mom than I’d written in the last decade! Every Christmas brings memories of not just my childhood and the past with my exSpouse, but with Mom. That Christmas, I think, she decided when she wanted to go, not wanting to burden us throughout Christmas week. I miss my mom and all that we didn’t say and experience with each other; I also wrap a blanket of memories around me in silence… never forgetting. I shall gather pine cones, fronds, and make popcorn strings for the Crows out front, and set out one more special string of lights for mom. My daughter who is 13 (I’m 66) will like that very much. <3
Absolutely beautiful! Saying a final goodbye is so difficult but your Mother will never truly leave, she will continue on through you, and those who’s hearts she has touched.
Ah….beautiful. Thank you.
The journey with your mother is a tough one. As a nurse, I have assisted many on their path to the other side. Even my own mother eight long years ago. Touch your mother, hug and talk to her, say the things you have always wanted to say. I swear she will hear you. You will be so glad you did.
Treasure family and friends, they anchor us in the now.
Again….thank you for sharing.
Have a merry Christmas and best wishes in the New Year….
This is my favorite post. I don’t express myself very well, so I just enjoy the way you do. I just have to say that you made me feel warm all over & hopeful in these crazy times. You’re right….. life goes on.
I’m sorry to hear about your mom……she sounds like a wonderful person.
Your writing always touches me, this one much more deeply. As I watched my own mother pass a few years back, it was both Valentines day and Ash Wednesday. Two dates she always liked and celebrated. They take on a new meaning to me now, and hoping one day, I’ll be able to embrace them warmly as she did.
I’m glad you have support from your Granddaughter, that is always a special bond.
Thank you. I needed this wisdom from you, your mother and your granddaughter. Wishing you and yours a wonder-filled holiday season.
What a poignant, yet hopeful, account of the beauty of a life well lived, both that of your mother and those of the tree and its companions. Your writing is most beautiful and your thoughts are just perfect. Thank you.
Yes! This is it! This weird mix of melancholy, happiness, rebirth and mortality that is the Christmas spirit. Love your writing.
What a lovely sentiment. You write so beautifully.
I sadly learned that lesson from my son, not my parents. He was gone at 25 and they are still here, at 87 and 89. But they will not be here much longer, and then I will have to look elsewhere to see life going on.
So happy for you that you are loving your little town and new/old home. I love following you.
Lovely. Your mother’s life and passing with hospice sound exactly like mine. It reminded me of her beautiful life and the absolute joy with which she celebrated Christmas. She left us 10 years ago. Thank you for sharing.
What a beautiful blog. My mother is 95 and thankfully still in good health, but I know she can’t live forever and that makes me sad. I will save your blog for when I need it again. Blessings to you.
Thank you for this lovely meditation on the season. I hope the turn of the year brings you peace and joy.
Beautifully written! Thank you for sharing this.
To live in the moment and show up for those who need us
Rejoice in the simple things and realize the blessings right in front of us
Lynn- thank you for this beautiful, touching post. I wish you peace and comfort as you go through this process. Also – comfort to your mother to know your love.
Thank you for this lovely blog post. My holiday life lesson? Minimalism is key to my happiness! No more fussing over bows or tinsel hung just right, no more time management to get all the baking done!! This year, and for those we have left, the holiday will be a time to focus on others who may need an extra bit of comfort, albeit anonymously. Best wishes are sent to you and your Mother, at this time of change.
Death in the midst of life, life in the midst of death. This perfect piece has moved me to tears. Christmas blessings to you all.
Beautiful writing. Lovely story. Happy Holidays!
I am so sorry your Mom is not doing well, but I am happy for you that she has been in your life for so long and that you can be there to help her make her way home. My Mother has been gone for 28 years. I think of her a lot. I have such vivid memories especially this time of year.
I agree with your granddaughter….keep the time-honored family traditions alive. More than anything, this will honor and celebrate your Mom’s spirit and life.
As usual, your eloquent writing paints a story that many of us share. To honor the past, with the realities of the present while considering the future. Not to dwell on either but to create a harmony of joy for ourselves and our families. That has been my goal, sometimes a battle, and most recently my near achievement.
Having lost both parents, my heart goes out to you for the continuous loss you have experienced with your beautiful mother and the final loss to come. Here is to the chocolate mints that will adorn your dinner table this holiday season.
My thoughts are with you as you continue along this path…the path that life wants you to follow. Your words bring hope and inspiration to me as I experience a similar journey with my mother.
Thank you…remain strong and hopeful.
Really great column.
As usual your eloquent writing paints a story that many of us share. To honor the past, with the realities of the present, while considering the future. Not to dwell on either but to create a harmony of joy for ourselves and our family. That has been my goal, sometimes a battle and more recently my near achievement.
Having lost both of my parents, my heart goes out to you for the continued loss you have experienced with your beautiful mother and the final loss to come. Here is to the chocolate mints that will adorn your table this holiday season.
Thank you for this beautiful reminder of our lives.
Life goes on…I very recently lost my beloved big brother to pancreatic cancer. His time in home hospice was too short. He wanted everyone to see his passing as temporary , as though he was on a long trip, and to enjoy our time, embrace our life, live and love until we meet again. I am sorry for your sorrow.
So moving so nostalgic, made me sit and think as all your posts do. My mother died years ago and I didn’t mourn Her and my father were not good parents so I let them go and got on with my life. We aren’t doing Christmas this year in the way of decorating. We haven’t been able to see the the children for two years due to Covid because we live on a small island and travel is difficult. Next year, fingers crossed we will see them. We are fine and happy or as happy as one can be at present. As I age , things all seem to becoming simplified. Enjoy your Christmas tree and your grand daughter. Sending hugs
Perhaps you already know this poem by WS Merwin
All day the stars watch from long ago
my mother said I am going now
when you are alone you will be all right
whether or not you know you will know
look at the old house in the dawn rain
all the flowers are forms of water
the sun reminds them through a white cloud
touches the patchwork spread on the hill
the washed colors of the afterlife
that lived there long before you were born
see how they wake without a question
even though the whole world is burning
— W.S. Merwin, from his Pulitzer-Prize winning book The Shadow of Sirius (Copper Canyon Press, 2008).
My heart is with you at this time. I lost my goofy fun loving dad in Sept. We shared Sunday dinners full of laughter and silliness every week since the pandemic began. He always requested that I wear my red tutu and elf hat to hand out presents on Christmas Eve. I wore them last Sunday to participate in a Santa Paddleboard tour. It was the first time since he passed that I truly laughed and experienced the joy of being silly again. I knew he was with me and enjoying every minute.
This is just beautiful. Heart-wrenching and beautiful. I’m so grateful to have found your Insta account and to have found your blog. You weave such emotion throughout that I feel like I am almost on the journey with you. Your words are so moving and powerful. Thank you…..
I, too am learning all the time that life does, indeed, go on despite the grievous loss of a loved one. I lost my Mom 3 years ago. I am developing new life identity roles, and the holidays keep reminding me of the peace & happiness my Mom must now be experiencing, a life free of pain and withered age. I am so appreciative of those in my life whom I love & care for and of whom feel the same toward me! Happy Holidays
I no longer want stuff. The family are asking for lists. I tell them no and they tell me I am still getting a gift. I would rather spend time with them and go around and look at the different Holiday decorations and lights
To cherish what blessings I have. To be thankful for good health and loved ones during this Christmas season! And for God in my life today! Learning to deal with financial loss and not letting it define me!
An emotional text that expresses so much how we can deal with loss, you word it so beautifully and so realistically that it certainly strikes me how beautifully you can say goodbye to a loved one. I feel the warmth and tenderness through your senses and it creates a picture of how you cherish the memories of your mother.
I love you so much for sharing this on your blog I only have one word for this “Beautiful”
I wish you a heartwarming day together with your granddaughter and the family so that these holidays may be a memory forever!
I feel this period very intensely, this year Christmas in Switzerland with our daughter, son-in-law and grandchildren, we have always celebrated Christmas very intensely with all the trimmings with the grandchildren in the lead role, just so wonderful …
Your story has really touched my heart. Yes, life does go on. You are right about that. And it will go on for your mother, too, just in a heavenly place rather than here. God bless you and have a wonderful warm and peaceful Christmas.
Great blog post. I lost my mother this year so your thoughts resonate with me greatly. I put out some of her holiday decorations and took the rest to a thrift store. It made me sad but hopefully another family will find joy in them. Wishing you peace this season.
This is the perfect Christmas message. Thank you! May God bless your mother as faces this next journey.
Thank you for sharing this emotional journey with your many readers. It is precious and healing for us all. I, too spent a Christmas season with my family mid-wifing my mother to her afterlife. It was 21 years ago. I enjoyed a day (almost every week) with her in the last year of her life: cleaning house, cooking for her and Dad, enticing her with delicious scents from the kitcben, willing her to eat and live. My family rallied so our parents had help and company, sometimes baking, sometimes running errands and often just lying on the bed beside her telling her stories to make her laugh. She passed on December 20th, but not before she had us all choose her gifts for our children, wrap them and place them under the Christmas tree. Being buried on the 23rd of December, she seemed to have ensured the extended family could take time off to travel to our little town to mourn and to spend a longer holiday with their loved ones. Bittersweet? Yes. But fitting, for she believed Christmas was family and children need to find joy even in loss. My daughter, aged 8 at the time, loved her camera and all of us shared a child-like acceptance of life going on as it must. May this season bring you and your mother deeply satisfying peace. Namaste.
What a beautiful and inspiring story bringing me comfort today.
With our past generations all gone, we are filled with the joys of sharing our Christmas season with our 15-month-old grandson, our daughter and husband. In a year of many transitions for us – some elected and some imposed (COVID-19) – we take more time to celebrate in the now. Your writing is among the things I celebrate. Best wishes. Linda
Thanks for your lovely compliment. Putting it in my pocket for a day of self-doubt.
You made me cry … in a very good way.
This is my first Christmas without both parents.
What a beautiful post this is! Thank you.
My thoughts are with you… the first holidays are hard.
Thank you so much for your honesty — this brought a tear to my eye. Reminiscing can be painful but beautiful. Wishing all a peaceful holiday season.
This is such a beautiful post, Lyn, and a reminder to embrace life in all of its myriad expressions. Thank you.
Wow. Beautiful. Thank you.
The lessons we have learned could be of great value to someone else.
I get so much value from sharing wisdom with others whether it be an old saying or a memory that influenced my journey.
This year more than others I find myself paying more attention to my friends and family in a more caring frame of mind.
The old saying “you only live once” is true and I think the time each of us dedicate to helping others will benefit more of us in a better more productive way moving forward.
I hope your mothers transition is easy and peaceful. I wish you comfort and strength. Embrace what your lovely grand daughter is bringing into your life and try to enjoy every moment. Thank you for you blog. It always makes me think about my many blessings.
I love reading about your seasonal decorating and new/old home renovations. Life does continue indeed. Change is inevitable. We can embrace it and make our lives better, or we can become bitter. That is our choice. My grown children live far away. Although they will be home for Christmas, the spark of when they were little children has diminished. It is still meaningful, yet different. Changed. I am thankful that we can be together and celebrate. Rather than give gifts that may be tossed aside, we prefer to give travel and/or experiences as gifts. Tickets for events, meals out, travel experiences. Those are the memory building activities that live on in our minds, not stuff that will be discarded when we pass from this earth. I am sad to read about your mother’s end of life. Your memories and experiences shared with her will live on. Your granddaughter’s excitement about Christmas and life keeps you in the present and moving forward. Thank you Lyn, for another thought-provoking post.
Your article touched my heart. I’m so grateful that you took the time to write it.
May God extend His mercy to bring your Mom peace along with you and your family.
Such a beautiful post. I cried! Peace to you.
I love this powerful article about a beautiful, well- lived life transitioning into the next.
My word for 2021 was “surrender” because I felt that I really had no control of what was happening around me. Instead of fighting it and trying to change things, for the year I just surrendered to what what was and what is and make the very best of every day.
My word for 2022 is “ignite”…. I want to now, in retirement, ignite new and old passions. Ignite a new energy. Ignite more movement and more involvement. Just IGNITE!
Bake and eat the cookies. Inhale your mama’s last moments and remember all the joyful memories that you shared. Sing a jaunty Christmas tune or two. give that granddaughter the biggest warmest hug…. I am going to do the same
Christmas time evokes many memories most good like my grandpap’s birthday being Christmas Day-and some not so good like my grandma assign away on a different Christmas morning. Today I celebrate my own mother’s birthday. She is looking down from heaven and knows how much I still miss her after all these years. Blessings to you Lynn as you traverse this meaningful time.
Loved the blog post…heartfelt….But, where can I buy the shirt?
Life does indeed go on. I love this article, brings back a lot of feeling I thought I had resolved. Maybe they never will be, it’s nice to know that I have a sister out there that knows some of those feelings. I’m not alone.
Thank you for this beautiful post! It bought me to tears as I read it. Last October I fled to Peru after selling my house, leaving my 2 adult daughters and my young granddaughter behind. I wasn’t sure who I was or what I wanted. Thankfully, I’m returning home next week after realizing that family IS the most important thing in life and I will never forget it! My heart goes out to you at this difficult time, I lost my mother several years ago as I watched her slowly fade away. ♥️
Absolutely beautiful piece of writing.
The realization of being the next generation is a jolt. Thank you for sharing this very personal journey. It is sacred time. May the joy and peace of the season wrap itself around you in it’s gentle embrace as you walk this journey.
This was meaningful to me. I will think about your words as they carry me through this holiday season. Blessings to you and your loved ones.
Just beautiful. Thank you.
Your spirit is so lovely Ms. Lynn. Your mother must have been a great example to you. When my time comes I feel that my children will be much the same as you are with your mother. They are so loving and kind now and I feel that will not go away. The Lord has been good to me! Blessings on a Holy and Happy Christmas Season and a wonder filled New Year to you and yours.
Prayer and blessings as you and yours live that profound cycle of Love.
Less than an hour ago I had a sudden craving for a York peppermint patty. ?! I’ve not eaten nor thought of this candy in years, yet the desire was intense. I discovered the kids had a couple of small ones left over from their Halloween haul, so I absconded with them and took my time savoring every minty bite. The very next thing I did was pick up my iPad, where I was greeted first thing by your blog post email. Synchronicity…I had just been reminiscing about my own mother, who’s been gone almost 10 years (I’m your age).
My stomach contracts; my generation is next.
That’s about when my eyes suddenly smarted – I think about this everyday. It’s sobering to be in our age group as we contemplate aging, illness, death, and all the losses that are part of this process. Thank you for your reminder to be fully in the present for those we have – and do make the extra effort to reciprocate the kindnesses of others. Beautiful!
Really beautifully written Captures so many of the feelings I am challenged by right now having lost my Mom in January!
My mother just recently passed. Thank you all for sharing. I too am learning about healing and rebirth.
It is very hard to watch our once vibrant parents become a shell of what they once were. They were suppose to live forever 🙏🇳🇿
I’d completely forgotten about a tree I had bought when small, as well. I wish I remembered what happened to it. I must have planted it out in our yard before we moved, or something. Funny how that can happen.
Thanks for your post. Very profound.
Reading your entry this afternoon brought tears to my eyes as I remembered my own mom who passed away this summer. She too would spend her long painful days sitting praying rosaries and novenas. She would have been 100 in November. Somehow losing dad and then her, I suddenly realized how orphaned I am now. At 75, I miss her like a child whose mom just went out of the house to run an errand. I wish you a beautiful Christmas 🎄
Thank you for a God sent message from you to me. My mother will turn 96 on December 16 & is in hospice care at a memory care nearby. She doesn’t speak a lot but her eyes still twinkle and she loves to just touch and hold my hand and look at it as if realizing that her daughter is aging also. She smiles at me with motherly love.. Sometimes I think she “hangs on” just making sure her “children” are OK. My brother and I were blessed with an almost perfect childhood thanks to my parents. Dad took loving care of mother up to the moment his body just wore out 3 years ago. He went to his heavenly reward lying next to her in their bed with her trying lovingly, to cover him and keep him warm. He and their caregiver had grocery shopped that day and he had done some trimming of the shrubs he and mother so enjoyed in their yard. He was energetic and mentally sharp…also, a lover of Peppermint. We were so focused on mother’s failing health, we failed to see how tired he was.
It is hard to say goodbye to parents no matter their age….something I didn’t realize until it happened. God be with you and all who are going through this.
You capture so beautifully what is means to fully engage and experience all of life’s moments… the small everyday ones and the huge remember forever ones. Thank you for creating ‘pause moments’ that lead me to re-evaluate how I’m living and what I value and hold dear.
A stunningly thought provoking piece that prompted me to reflect on the cycle of love and loss. My family may not show me their caring ( as I feel they should but that is my need, not theirs ) however when talking with my daughter yesterday and saying I love you to hear her say I know filled me with joy.
Our blessings may seem small but they are always there.
What a beautiful article about the triumph of the human spirit over loss. This Christmas Season I am learning the blessings of cancer. I was diagnosed in September and went through all the usual feelings of finding out you have something in your body that is trying to kill you. I have gone through the yucky tests, the surgery, and now I am going through the regime of trying to kill the random cells that may be lurking in places waiting to attack again. Through it all, as I reflect, I realize how incredibly blessed I am. Blessed to have been married for 48 years and because of cancer, we are experiencing that young love that we felt in our twenties, realizing how precious our time together is. Blessed by friends that bring meals when I am so sick I can’t get out of bed. Blessed because each of my three beautiful children have taken time from their jobs to attend different appts. to take notes and asked questions. Life does go on even when we face illness or the loss of those we love. We learn that these experiences serve to help us grow and make us better humans. Blessings to you and your precious mother this holiday season.
I am frequent reader who never comments, but I felt moved to respond to this. I remember that slow walk, having watched my father take it in his final months with cancer. May her journey be one of grace and may your sorrow sit lightly. Sending thoughts of peace to you both.
The sparkle of twinkling lights connect me with the souls of loved ones for ease.
Prayers for the present season and the next and next etc🙏🙏🙏
thank you for sharing, lyn, and for reminding us all of the beauty of life in all its chapters.
wishing you the best.
Thank you for this beautiful post.
Beautiful sharing from your heart. Losing a mother is like losing part of ourselves. I hope that your granddaughter’s presence and excitement will bring many joyous memories of your childhood with your mom and the many Christmas’s you shared. You are in my thoughts at this most difficult time. You always inspire me with your honesty. Your posts are like a gift. Merry Christmas to you and your family..
Thank you for showing the beautiful cycle of life, and all its blessings .
I wish you love, comfort, and new awarenesses. Death seems to give us gifts of greater awareness. Greater appreciation of the sky. Of nature and the subtle (and not so subtle) patterns and colors. It can rip us open in painful tears, but the rips can be openings for new aliveness.
For me? I am fighting the depression of a reality of being stuck, in my traveling van, for months now as Seattle has entered its cold, dark (dark) rainy phase. I’ve often enjoyed this time of year while in the relative comfort of my former home. A fire giving warmth, a huge open house party when I saw long term customers and friends. I entertained with spicy fresh ginger and lemon cider (usually with a splash of cognac). People lined up around the block to get first dibs on the seconds I’d saved all year, and sold for so little (relative to gallery prices). Because Covid closed most of my galleries and stores, and the nail in the coffin being the closure of the facility I rented use of the heavy equipment necessary for my work, I had to sell my house and close my business. I lost well over $150k in orders and materials. Not to mention divesting myself of everything I owned but what would suit my new life, in a 19 ft van. The hardest (which surprised me) were my clothes, and my ski gear! But with the proceeds from my home/studio I was able to buy a brand new Sprinter-style van, and I began traveling. Layers and layers of stress began to peel off of me. I found myself with a little smile on my face almost all the time! I have a Maine Coon kitten named Dog as my travel companion. Well, he’s now a toddler; one year old, and enormous! I don’t know that I’ve ever been so happy. I camp on public lands, in the most beautiful places you could possibly imagine. Bliss.
But while back in the pacific northwest to visit friends and family last July, I received an offer to license my former business. I considered, did research, told the investors I’d only be available for a month or so (this was September 15th). It is now December 9th. I’m camping on the side of a road in Seattle. The wheels FINALLY started to turn (as they FINALLY started to trust me to order necessary supplies, follow my instruction for equipment, etc. and those materials have FINALLY to arrive. But I learned today that my new licensee (who I’ll be training for at least 4-6 weeks) is quarantined due to Covid exposure in her home. I am struggling with a pretty deep depression now (situational, not biochemical, I’ve got that covered). So we won’t start work until after the new year. I’ve explored SO many options! I will be leaving here on the 18th until the 26th, for van repair (and 3 days in a large Airbnb where Dog and I can run and play and cook up soups for the freezer! And I’ll spend Christmas with dear friends on my way back here. I can hardly wait to work again. I am so hungry for it! But todays news has slammed my depression to the point that once again (a familiar indicator) that I have a hard time imagining how people are actually walking around outdoors. Doing things. Talking.
Living on the side of the road in a van in gloomy, rainy Seattle is not why I bought this van. But also; I’m grateful beyond words that I have a lovely van. Heat. Food. Seattle is heartbreakingly painted in wide strokes of homelessness. And at the same time my heart breaks that it has come to that for them, I am grateful for what I have.
So. What lessons am I learning this holiday season? Perseverance. Gratitude for all I have. And to allow myself to climb under the covers, even mid day, with a Netflix, the internet, and a glass of good gin. And I remind myself this is temporary. I get that. But still it feels dark. Luckily, VERY luckily, I know this psychological terrain. I know it has a beginning, a middle, and an end. And I will make it through. And come spring, I anticipate being back on the road again. With (God (?) willing, with a regular trickle income from this licensing deal. 🙏🤞🙏
And, I’m sorry to have now burdened you with this outpouring of woe.
And in spite of my wor, I send you clean, alive, inspiring, and yes, great comfort as you navigate this next phase. ❤️
Wow…lucky are those who have moms and granddaughters at the same time. Wonderful juxtaposition. Oh, I love your sweatshirt too!
Watching a loved one wither is so difficult, especially at the holidays. But to be reminded that life is a circle, like the seasons, to be cherished and held in awe is a reminder of the fullness of life. Thinking of you and your mother.
This could not have been easy to write but you did it with such elegance and grace. I lost my mother a year ago and, after reading your words, I was finally able to cry.
I’m so sorry for what you are going through but know that we are all here for you.
I am so sorry for the pending loss of your mother. Do know that with the passage of time it gets easier, but you will never forget the love and the lessons. The first year is the most challenging, but those we lose stay alive in what they have taught us. I hope your holidays are as happy as possible.
I will be 65 December 11 and when I started reading about you I just felt you are amazing. So full of life and because of looking at you I embraced my gray hair and I love myself my body and I know I am enough. I will retire in 22 but I will sit I will get out meet new friends and travel, I just want to enjoy living again!
Lynn, your expressive writing is simply beautiful. And yes life does go on. May your holidays be blessed. And may your mother be at peace.
This blog touched me so deeply. I loved the richness of your heart speaking to us of death and life, ups and downs, joy and grief. Thank you so much for sharing such a personal story.
In,ost both my parents before I had the maturity to craft an adult relationship with them. It gives me great happiness to vicariously enjoy the joy of your relationship with your mother. Treasure the moments and know we are all thinking of you.
What an inspiration and a balm your blog is for me. Thank you.
Thank you for your lovely bittersweet story. May you and your family have a beautiful Christmas.
A truly beautiful and moving post. Thank you.
This season, I am learning to please myself. Thank you for the reminder that there are lessons to be learned…even at Christmas.
It is 5:45 in my kitchen this morning. Reading your article I am there with you. Thanks for the reminder life is so brief. Have a wonderful Christmas. Love, Connie
Three years ago my mother ‘s life followed this same path, at this time of year. Miraculously, just before Christmas her children, grandchildren and two great grandchildren were all able to visit her. She died peacefully a few days after Christmas.
Now I think of her as I pull out old cookie tins she used at Christmas, and bake some old favorites in addition to new cookies that have become “mine.” These my son likes to receive in the mail as an early start to the Christmas season.
Your post resonated with me, and so many others. Here is to a season of love, memories and life.
Your writing calms my mind. In this season I feel like I’m rushing to get everything done. This year I cut back on some of the decorating, I’m the only one pressuring me to “deck the halls”. It is time to reflect, enjoy and hold our favorite people close. God bless your mother and the rest of your family.
How beautiful you write. yes, life goes on. i am suffering since 9 years because of my daughter who is very sick. I wish you strength and love.
A road well traveled is a life well lived, treat people the way you want to be treated. To live in the past is not living, mistakes are made should be lessons learned, to give is better to receive to bring joy during the holiday season and thru out life should always put a smile on your face and in your heart.
Oh, my! What a wonderful bringing together of everything.
Reading through the comments is also a roller coaster of emotions!
Have a Blessed Holiday Season, Lyn – may your light continue to shine brightly.
Oh my goodness! You write so beautifully, eloquently, touchingly. Thank you for sharing. I got teary eyed and my stomach also contracted. I have lived similar experiences, but never thought to document them as such. I have two adult sons, who have two recent wives, and our first grandson, 5 months old. This year I decided to declare that I don’t wish to engage in Christmas gift giving or receiving. I also didn’t want to set out or put up any Christmas decorations (except for 3 lovely poinsettias). Both initiatives came to me as a result of my rather scroogey dear husband of 43 years’ tendency of no gift-giving nor decorating. Thinking now of my sons and their (and my!) families, I’m now reconsidering.
Thank you for your wise and heartfelt insights.
All my best to you,
Beautiful! Thank you very much for share with us this so very sensitive moment in a touching way.
Thank you so much, Lyn, for your intimate thoughts sharing with us.
I‘m deeply touched. Love your posts.
Have lightful Christmas days, greets from Germany!
Thank you for this beautiful reflection. I lost my mom and my mother-in-law this summer, both women loved Christmas. our task is to find the balance of what was and wed it to what will be.
What touching and beautiful thoughts and memories at this wonderful time of year!
Thank you for this touching essay, Lyn. My prayers are with you and your mother as you both move through this journey together, and separately. I was fortunate to be able to be with my mother in her last days and moments – 14 years ago next month. It is a time I hold in my heart always. When my mom was in hospice, I taped a photo of her at around age 3 or 4 above the bed in her living room. And that little girl looked down on both of us, bringing a sense of peace in the cycle of life. The death of her parents had rocked her profoundly. She was in her 40s (which now seems very young) when they died six months apart, and the sadness stuck with her for her next 30 years of life. She also had a difficult marriage to my dad, and other challenges. So, it comforted me that she was returning to that little girl with the big grin. I hope you also find comfort during this sad holiday season.
You wrote this in such a lovely way that I felt as though I was traveling with you on the journey. I could feel all of the emotions. My parents have both passed, but they loved to pray and it was good for all of us to see that as they lived through their final journeys. Blessings to you and all of your family during this special season!
Your writing and story is so beautiful and touches me deeply. It reminds me of my own mom who transitioned in a similar way your mom is doing. It’s been 12 years and this time of year has never been the same since she and many other loved ones have passed.
We also moved 6 months ago, only an hour away from the city (LA) where our 2 grown children and their families are, but it all feels so different and lonely where we are. It’s all about adapting and growing for me. Following your stories and all your beautiful pictures of beautiful you are helping me more than you know. A lot of us, I’m sure.
Thank you for sharing with us and many blessings to you, your family and you mother at this time.
Merry Christmas. Enjoyed your thoughtful and sad post. Man of us are suffering silently. May heart is sad for your situation.
Thank you for such a touching post. I lost my mom 41 years ago this Christmas, so I know somewhat of what you are going through. My thoughts and good wishes go with you. Peace and prayers for your family. I have learned to not take one minute for granted. I have recently sold our overstuffed couch and loveseat and 5-piece set of end, sofa and coffee tables. It has been liberating to clean the palette and simplify the room. It feels so much lighter and such a lovely room to use more.
I look forward to your posts for they always make me ponder on your words of wisdom.
The wintry, holiday season can be hard to get through when you are dealing with the decline of a loved one. You are doing a great job of carrying on and making new memories for your family. I have much appreciation for the way you handle and write about your life.
Thank you for your heartfelt and exquisite words which moved me to tears. Take best care of yourself. May the time your mother has left be painless and peaceful.
There is a sadness for me this holiday season because another year of celebrating in a non-traditional way, meaning limited contact with family and friends but grateful for what I have. I find that this time of year I really miss family members who have passed, especially my dear mother. Last week, one bright spot was decorating my 5ft artificial tree with ornaments gathered from every corner of the globe. As lovely as those ornaments are, none are as special as the mid-century modern ornaments that belonged to my mother and were passed down to me, each occupying a prominent place on the tree. My mother passed nine years ago, but I continue to feel her presence and I am reminded of her every time I look in the mirror and smile. My resemblance to her is so uncanny I have actually spooked a couple of folks and she would get a kick out of that.
Lyn, wishing you and your family a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
What beautiful words Lyn – starting with your journey to see your Mum I felt I was part of it, everything seemed to be in slow motion. Then the excitement of your young grand daughter – her energy and her innocence as the preparation for Christmas is her priority.
Lives are full of these comparisons that keep us balanced as I am sure yours will be in the near future as the need for solitude will compare with expectations to celebrate the season.
Your writings are truly inspirational. Thank you for sharing so much of yourself.
“….And when your eyes freeze behind the grey window
and the ghost of loss gets in to you,
May a flock of colours
indigo, red, green and azure blue
come to awaken in you
a meadow of delight”… poem John O’Donohue
Thank you for your beautiful post Lyn. I lost my mother who was 88 years old right before Christmas 14 years ago. My husband and I were her care givers until the end. It was so heartbreaking to watch her decline as the days went by, but I did have wonderful memories of all the things we did together throughout her life. We talked about many things before she was to sick to talk at all. We did celebrate Christmas that year, but it was a very sad time for us. Now the years have passed since then, and what is left is all the lovely memories of mom. Every Christmas now it seems we are always mentioning something that mom would have done or said. Live does truly does go on even though at the time I couldn’t see how it ever could. Blessings to you as you go through this Lyn.
Your letter evoked such emotion in me…Tears of remembrance and empathy. Beautifully expressed, raw yet refined.
I’m so sorry for your mother’s last stage journey, as natural as it may be. You do so well showing us in your writing instead of just telling. I’m reminded this season that it’s always better to keep Him illuminated. If I allow things of this world and stress to dim my view of Him, I become stress. How beautiful this renewed message came as I sit over a thousand miles from home, during temporary & unexpected travel, in the midst of a newly, developing journey.
My precious mother just passed, I traveled the same road that you’re on now. Our mothers and now our granddaughters, show us the way for life to go on, and so we are do it for them and ourselves. Thank you for sharing your mother’s journey, so similar to my own mother’s, with all of us. You have eased my grief tremendously today, I’m sending love and prayers to hopefully help ease yours.
Oh my dear, you have eased mine.
You remind me to engage in the art of pondering, and bring journaling back into my dedicated time. The minutiae can wait. Thank you for that. The best to you and your mother.
These moments will never come again, good to note them.
I had saved this to read when I had a bit of time, knowing I wanted to savor your thoughts and words. I am glad I waited as I was able to fully concentrate this morning and listen as your words spoke to my heart. Wishing you a lovely and peaceful Holiday Season and a very Merry Christmas.
Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts. My mom passed away on Christmas morning, I was with her and must admit it was the holiest of Christmas’ I’ve ever experienced.
Thank you so much for your writings. They are always very moving and insightful. Peace be with you and your family.
Thank you so much.
Thank you as always Lyn for your thoughtful stories and insight. For me, it’s about being grateful. Grateful for others, grateful for good health during a time when many are sick, grateful that those whom we love continue to thrive and most importantly, grateful to be able to help those who need it. Sending our best to you and yours, praying for a smooth transition for lovely mother as she begins her next eternal chapter…..🤞🙏🏻
Thank you for these warm wishes. My mother passed on Christmas morning and it was a great privilege to be with her as she left.
I think you may have it a bit wrong. Your mother has the glorious mysteries as she waits to enter eternity.
Ah yes, it will be glorious for her indeed as sheis deeply religious.
with a thankyou for your text full of love and wisdom, too, i want to send you warm and sympathetic greetings and hope You can share furthermore lots of good memories, friendship and love from and with your family to stand this time. Reading your articles und looking at your empowering and beautiful pictures, it became like you are a nice neighbour, though we are not even in the same country; i never commented before, but wanted to express my compassion. Hopefully not beeing distanceless, a careful hug from south germany
I so appreciate your kind words and your hug!
Thank you for sharing this beautiful piece. So moving. Life is fleeting. Let’s savour the moments – even the challenging ones if we can.
They are all part of being alive and present so yes let’s.
What a lovely tribute to your mother. So beautifully written. In this year of painful loss, I am growing amaryllis for the first time. I’m obsessed with their growth cycle, coming to life during this dark time. Small miracles.
Someone sent me that plant and now I will be watching for the joy it will bring me during this dark time.
As I sat here and read this I noticed that my hand was on my heart. I thought of my own mother has who I had the privilege of being beside in her final days and breath. I learned so much from her.
I didn’t channel my mother this year. I was low key and relaxed and present. I picked some flowers from the garden and put them on the table in a jam jar – Plum jam 2003 – her writing. And so she sat with us as we shared breakfast on Christmas Day. It has been 15years since my mother passed and her presence is always found. Sometimes it brings a smile and sometimes tears.
Live well in the memories your mother has left you. And thank you for sharing this special and bittersweet time with your followers.
What a beautiful ritual you describe. And such a lovely way to celebrate your mother’s presence.
Thank you for sharing with us
Lyn, you so much and this last few years but right now my mother-in-law is in a hospital bed for over two weeks with pneumonia not sure if she will be returning home. It’s day by day … Time is precious has hit home the most. Celebrate each day it really is a gift.
Yes and that is why I aspire to be old, “Having lived a long time.” I welcome it for the reasons you state.
Life lessons are always present during the daily chores and spontaneous activities that fill my day. I look forward to interesting texts from my creative son and conversation with my two year old granddaughter. Loosing my mother took a toll on me 6 years ago but I’ve learned to only keep a few things that she loved to remind me of her. I cherish her memories and I cherish and look forward to new memories with those people I love to be around. Thinking of you during this difficult time. Life lessons…Time heals your soul. Take care Lyn.
Thank you so much. It makes me think of how important maintaining intergenerational connections are when living older life as we also must face the loss of parents and friends.
I am coming to your post late–but perhaps at the time I needed to see it. I had been thinking about my mother, who died in March 2019, while cleaning up after a New Year’s brunch that had left me exhausted. Well into her 80s, my mom could put together a meal for a crowd without blinking an eye–but perhaps she, too, was weary after. Her last five years were difficult–she did not go gently. It sounds terrible to say, but we were glad she did not experience the pandemic, which would have made her anxious and irate (which apparently it has made many people). Here in Colorado, 2021 ended with a fire that burned 1000 homes. It will be another difficult recovery, but I hope the sense of community that has been tested during the pandemic will reassert itself to help the thousands who are facing the new year without a home. And, on a different note, I notice a few people have suggested poems, so I am throwing out “Let Evening Come” by Jane Kenyon.
Thank you so much for sharing your story. I will be sure to read the poem.Words are such a comfort.
Hello Lynn, hard to read these lovely, melancholy memories. You see, I too lost my mother this year. Cheers 🥂 to 2022.
I am so sorry for your loss. It is hard indeed.
Beautiful writing. I enjoyed it very much.
Beautiful writing. I enjoyed it very much.
Beautiful writing. I enjoyed it very much.
Thanks so much.