Well my sister and brother-in-law have left and returned to their home in NSW. It was a hard goodbye for me, I still weep when I think about it as I know there is a chance we may never see each other again. I remember back to childhood when I was so jealous of my sister, our Mother loved her more the me I always thought. She was everything a daughter should be, pretty, blue eyed and fair, a lovely nature, clever, popular and no trouble. I was the opposite, dark hair and eyes, lots of trouble, not popular and driven. I know now that non of that matters to a mother. You love your children no matter what, there is no other alternative other than to love.
(My sisters wedding, I am on her left, she was 18 Y.O.)
We did lots of catching up, as she still keeps in touch with those we grew up with. But there are very few of them still alive. Breast cancer has been the grim reaper for almost all of my childhood female friends. We sat and knitted together and I could feel my right arm hurting so much. I knew, what I had suspected, that I will never be able to knit much again. (I also injured my foot with too much walking and am having to sit all the time.) So, with heavy heart, I pulled out all my wool stash for her to choose what she would like to take and she took 5 boxes full, I also gave her all of my knitting books. All the wools I had collects from around the world, so lots of precious memories went with that gift. She is the only person I would have given them too, they will be safe with her and I know she will knit them up for her children and grandchildren.
My son rang to say that all my children will be here for lunch on Mother's Day. With everything going on I had forgotten that that day was nearly here. So now life moves on. It think about what I learned from my Mother in the 16 years before she died.
I always have fresh flowers in vases around my house, she loved that.
I love to look at peaceful scenes that calm my heart, she loved that.
I look at my children and love them, she did that too.
What I Learned From My Mother
I learned from my mother how to love
the living, to have plenty of vases on hand
in case you have to rush to the hospital
with peonies cut from the lawn, black ants
still stuck to the buds. I learned to save jars
large enough to hold fruit salad for a whole
grieving household, to cube home-canned pears
and peaches, to slice through maroon grape skins
and flick out the sexual seeds with a knife point.
I learned to attend viewings even if I didn’t know
the deceased, to press the moist hands
of the living, to look in their eyes and offer
sympathy, as though I understood loss even then.
I learned that whatever we say means nothing,
what anyone will remember is that we came.
I learned to believe I had the power to ease
awful pains materially like an angel.
Like a doctor, I learned to create
from another’s suffering my own usefulness, and once
you know how to do this, you can never refuse.
To every house you enter, you must offer
healing: a chocolate cake you baked yourself,
the blessing of your voice, your chaste touch.
––Julia Kasdorf