One Year

June 14, 2010

It’s really not Mother’s Day, or Christmas, or her birthday that “get to me”. It’s all of the other days that are not necessarily marked with special significance or importance; it’s every day.

So today, of all days, I will not think of her “more”.

I will not miss her more today, than I did last week.

But I have to admit, this crazy unit of time…the significance of our 365-day cycle does torture me a little. Last October I couldn’t stop thinking about taking my parents to the farmers market in Dallas to buy heirloom pumpkins for Halloween: “last Halloween”. It was comforting to think about eating Isaac’s homemade banana-caramel pie with her “last Easter”. Just last Easter…not so long ago at all!

My Aunt Irene called me today and told me this had been a “sacred” year, and I have to agree. There was a chronological comfort taken in the minimal effort required to recall events from just one year ago.

But now the proximity of all of those “last-year memories” has been replaced by new ones, as they will from now on. In a way it’s shocking. I still can’t believe that winter turned into spring.

But sacred-first years or not, Mom would not want anyone feeling sad today, or any of these days. She loved us just as we loved her, and no matter how many years pass, that feeling will never fade or become distant.

So faith, hope, love remain, these three, but the greatest of these is love.

(The illustration above was created by my Aunt Mague)

 

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3 Responses to “One Year”

  1. Mague Says:

    How could a year run by us? It seems I have missed her much more than a years worth. A mirror has appeared before all of us I think. We look and wonder if this is how it will be when we leave. Will our families experience the same? Some wonderful memories some not so wonderful? I have come to the conclusion, and I admit a self-serving conclusion, that Chole would want us to look forward to the peace, not to fear our future journeys and to be remembered with smiles after we have exhusted our time for tears. The picture my nephew Howard posted here is accomplished using Chole’s art supplies. It was a warm feeling knowing the last hands to carry the brush, to open the tubes were those of my sister.


    • The morning that my dad and I packed up my mom’s art supplies, I had exactly the same thoughts as I examined all of her old color mixtures and notes…”the last hands to touch these things were hers”…and at the same time, it made me especially happy to know that you would bring them all back to life again for all of us, as you have. Thank you, Mague.

  2. Lydia Avina-Drayer Says:

    I totally agree. Chole would not want us to feel sad today. Problem is, I was never very good at following instructions. What’s more, I feel entitled to feel sad, mad, or any other selfish emotion I feel like today. I remember when Chole implied the end was near and out of my mouth popped “wait, I’m supposed to go first.” How lame is that? It was a phone conversation but I could sense her eyes rolling. I assumed that since she was so vital to my universe, naturally she couldn’t die before me. So today is all about feeling sorry for myself and eating chocolate. Tomorrow I’ll be grown up like the rest of you. Hmmm…pretty sure she’s rolling her eyes at me as I type.


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