First Visit

I am, right now, visiting my dad.  This is the first visit since the funeral and it is so hard. Being here is so painful.  Everywhere I look I see her, I've said this all before, but I need to say it again.  My mother's absence is tangible, I feel it with each fibre of my being.  At home I am learning to live with the pain, here, I can't escape it.

I wish I could say that I can turn my sad moments into happy memories, like I am told I should be able to do. But I can't.  For those of you following this blog, this must be sounding awfully redundant by now.  It is redundant...the pain is like the tides...in and out, sometimes it is intense, other times a bit less but always there...a constant noise in my heart.

Tonight my daughter made a Christmas Tree ornament.  She pulled out my mother's craft supplies and created an ornament.  To most, this wouldn't mean much, but to those who knew my mother, it is significant.  My mother took much joy in making crafts, particularly ornaments.  Every year, each Christmas, we would receive about a half dozen home-made Christmas ornaments from her.  She made them out of sea shells, pine cones, cinnamon sticks, some she hand sewed.  She made them out of all sorts of things.  They were unique and beautiful and I loved every one of them. I marvelled at her creativity.  My mother made no ornaments in 2009, I remember finding that very odd at the time.  In retrospect, I guess my mom was tired, but I don't think any of us realised just how tired she was.

The ornament my daughter made

Back to the ornament my daughter made.  In the midst of her creating this masterpiece, she looked up at me and asked, "If [Grandma] were alive, do you think she would be proud of me?" ...and the tide came in... I answered, "Oh yes, my sweet daughter, she would be very proud".