Dear Mom (Oct 9/17)

Mon, Oct 9/17

Dear Mom,

I thought this may be an easy letter to write. But I was wrong. With each forward step we take, we are walking further away from this "Time of Frequent Family Connections". We will soon run out of excuses to gather together. And here we will be. Standing in the middle of life as we know it. Without you.

We gathered the family together in your honor one last time yesterday. The day was nothing short of amazing. If you had been with us, I think you would have enjoyed watching three generations of your family lapping up every moment and memory of the farm where Dad and you started your lives together.

We walked around and explored. We climbed "the big hill". We checked out the old buildings and the fallen down playhouse (even more meaningful because it was part of your very first home). We tried to find the shortcut through the bushes to the school. Donna and Wendy told stories of "remembering when" and I heard their inner child with every nuance, the subtle change in their voice and the look in their eyes.

I am beyond grateful to have the memories I have of the farm. They aren't as plentiful as Donna and Wendy's but they are so much more than Trev had. But by being able to go back and revisit your old home place, we all have so very much more to hold onto.

How do we hold onto all of this "greatness" and still move forward? Dale is reminding me I must look to the present to create my own future. Not a future that revolves around my trips out to see you.

I cannot lie. I can't look that far ahead. I am stuck in the moment. I am revelling in the "now". Now? Is okay. Tomorrow? I can do. I can look a week ahead. Maybe two. But I see a vast panorama of emptiness in the weeks that are in the not so distant future.

In the meantime, I shall simply revel in the small things. Boiling eggs in your new pot, slicing aforementioned eggs with your handy dandy egg slicer and ensuring the candy jar is filled with ju-jubes for the family. 

Packing up your old picnic basket and taking it out to the farm soothed my heart. I'll just keep doing those "little things" that embody my memories of you and take it a day at a time. 

Thanks for the memories, Mom! And the picnic basket too. 😊

Love,
Colleen

My meagre contributions to our Family Thanksgiving Potluck at the farm

(transported with care, in a picnic basket that brings back memories of harvest time on the farm)