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I am participating in the
Slice of Life.
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day,
on Tuesdays.
Thank you, Two Writing Teachers!
Slice of Life.
All participants are writing about one moment, one part of their day,
on Tuesdays.
Thank you, Two Writing Teachers!
The photograph of Mom fell off the piano.
Yes, it really did. Without any obvious provocation or antecedent. No one bumped it. No one stomped through the room. Nothing fell over and knocked into it. It was a quiet, early morning, and Tony and I were moving peacefully and ordinarily through our get-ready-for-the-day routine, when we heard it crash to the floor.
What was that?! I asked, and scurried into the living room, tracking the sound, only to find the picture of my Mom on the floor.
Turns out, that same early morning, my Aunt Louise died. My Mom's best friend.
Coincidence?
My friend Sarah says - when you think coincidence, think God.
I am so thankful for this dear woman. I am so thankful for my Aunt Louise. What an amazing woman. She was my Mom's very best friend, since they were young girls. When I was born, she became my godmother and we called her "Aunt." She showered me with love and affection all my life.
She wrote me a letter every birthday. EVERY BIRTHDAY! I am not exaggerating. I was well into adulthood before I realized what a treasure this was, and I began saving these. How I wish I had kept every single one.
Over the years, we became regular correspondents. I always looked forward to her letters, pouring myself a cup of tea and sitting down to savor her words.
When Aunt Louise's daughter went through her mother's writing desk, one last time, after her death, she found an envelope marked "Maureen," filled with photos of me and my family, and my own mother's obituary. Who would've believed that anyone would be so organized, as to have photos and mementos ready to be handed out at their death?
Who would've doubted that Aunt Louise would be?
In the days since her death, I have tried to slow down and reflect. My dear Aunt Louise is gone, less than one year after my mother, and I am all alone, truly alone, to mother myself.
I must try again today, and every day, to be loving of me.
This is a post that you should print and save, Maureen. Come back to it when you need some mothering or maybe even be inspired to write yourself letters or take on that tradition for someone else. I love the way you turn the event toward important memories, insights, and reflections. Beautiful.
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