a pocket folder,
twenty-five more stuck in a bag
of wooden hearts, and
six gift cards
to the bank
that looks like a book
and rattles most intriguingly.
to my share
of bank accounts, bonds,
IRAs and more—my parents
generous in death
just as they
for the chance
to make a difference,
to fund a well that will provide
three hundred people
last more than
forty years, beyond
my lifetime even. Imagine!
Life-giving for them—
for me, too.
I’ve been tithing my share of the money from my parents’ estate and feel incredibly blessed to be able to help so many people and organizations. There were several Christmases when I made small donations in my parents’ name to clean water efforts, so when I came across Thirst Project, I knew I wanted to fund a well in their memory. Thank you, Dad and Mom! Peace to our ♥s!
What I felt in each instance [when her parents died] was…regret for time gone by, for things unsaid, for my inability to share or even in any real way to acknowledge, at the end, the pain and helplessness and humiliation they each endured.
Joan Didion, The Year of Magical Thinking
How easy it came to us—why doesn’t Dad just [insert action here]: call the doctor, or get off his butt
and go up and sit with Mom, or say something, or agree to wearing Depends. Perhaps it depends on who
is doing the asking and who the doing. This saying is also true: you don’t know until you’ve been tried.
The one-year anniversary of my dad’s death is coming up this Monday. He was (not) dealing with his own cancer throughout my mom’s time on hospice. Peace to our ♥s!
May He support us all the day long, till the shades lengthen and the evening comes, and the busy world is hushed and the fever of life is over and our work is done. Then in his mercy may He give us a safe lodging and a holy rest and peace at the last.
The one-year anniversary of my mom’s death was this past Saturday. The interlude in the poem occurred a few weeks after she died and lasted only briefly, as my dad went downhill pretty quickly after that. The quote above was on a sympathy card I received. Peace to our ♥s!
Not a yarn: that my Grandma Boos taught me how to crochet. Yarn: the many, many skeins of my mom’s, now mine,
becoming coasters and afghans to brighten others’ days, tangible love handed down three generations.
My mom’s acrylic yarn is what I’m using to crochet small afghans for Project Linus, which distributes new handmade blankets to children in need (for example, in hospitals). I’m fortunate that there are Project Linus drop-off boxes in the JOANN fabric stores in my area. For the coasters, I’m using up her 100% cotton yarn, which can take the heat of a hot mug. There’s enough yarn for at least 200 coasters–it brightens my days, too, to be able to give them away. Peace to your ♥!