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May, 2011:

Little Things Mean Alot

My father’s sister Ann made her transition earlier this week.My cousin Deborah and her husband Herbie were  her primary caregivers for these past 10 years.

My aunt did not lead an easy life but had the hutzpah to do things people of her age seldom risked.She allowed life to guide her onward- no matter what.

These last years she grappled with dementia,but in her own inimitable way,she kept her heart at peace and drew from her faith.

My father was very close to his sister, perhaps his compassion for her came as a result of  her being the oldest daughter of 11 siblings.

My father would have known what that meant, as he was the oldest son, and one can only imagine the responsibility inherrent to  both of their positions in their family.

My father was a gatherer, and that included his spearheading of many family reunions.With 52 cousins, reunions  for me were times for great fun! Often my father and his brothers would organize games at these reunions and hand out prizes.We enjoyed games like relays, and volley ball and 4 legged races.Life was good, and the prizes while important, were of  secondary importance. Time with one another  seemed to be all that mattered.

My dad’s passion was making people happy and one way he  achieved this was to be certain that everyone at the reunion received a prize.My cousin related  to me today that throughout her 91 years, my aunt kept her favorite prize by her side.It was a bank in the form of a baseball player.She received it from my dad at a family reunion.

Three days before her transition, my cousin related to me that my aunt had this prize by her bedside.When she asked her mom who gave her the prize ,Ann replied,” Henry”,  my dad’s name.I’d like to think that prize was a symbol,a prize of good things to come for my Aunt.I’d like to believe that she  was not only close to the object , her prize, but to the thought and presence of her brother who had gone before her .One never knows the meaning of little things, but of this one can be certain,the love of this brother and sister touched us forever and that is our prize to share.

 

 

 

 

 

It was the best of mothers’ days

It was a day filled with bittersweet moments.Both joy and sorrow- for those who were here and those now no longer physically with us.

There were 13 of us, from ages 1 year old to 88 years young, the matriach, my mom, for whom we all gathered at my home.

I had prepared a small gift for all the moms, even those who may not have their own children, but have “fur” babies, and/or nurture others seemingly so easily.

My dad would have been very happy to see his all of us his children honoring my mom. It is his legacy.Ever notice how some days seem to bring to heart those poignant memories of loved ones who have made their transition?

And as for my mom, 88, she remembered how her mom loved family gatherings and how all our cooking and preparations were memories she held so fondly of her childhood.

My sister remembered he mom quietly,remembering how she was always raring to go.She misses her mom dearly.

Yesterday I was out buying a last minute gift for our 5 year old and 7 year old guests.I observed a woman holding her mom’s hand as I so often do when my mom and I go out together.Her mom held out a card to the cashier:”Know how hold I am?”, she queeried”.How old?” said everyone in line.”I am 100 years old!” We all looked at the daughter in disbelief.”It’s true she said with a smile.”It’s true.” said her mom with a grin!

“You’re blessed to still have her”, I said…to which the daughter said, “I know!”

And that is all that matters isn’t it.The “knowing” what we know.And in that “knowing” we find consolation,no matter what  was our experience of mothering .