LOVE | DEATH | MOTHER | Memoir Stories
Remembering the Lady: Those Old Hands
They helped and worked and prayed
The lady who was 92, or just a few months short of 92, was my beautiful mother, and she has died.
I didn’t know how I would feel when that time came, but writing about this particularly emotional milestone will help me work through it.
Writing down my memory now will give me something to go back to, read, shed tears that will have accumulated, and then move forward.
People always say it’s what she would want you to do; sometimes that sounds like a platitude.
But right now, I do not doubt that my mother would want me to write my thoughts and then move forward.
She loved when I would read my stories to her, which I did when we ran short of things to discuss.
She especially liked Cooper’s stories. They seemed to ground her and allowed her to focus on something adorable, and who doesn’t love my adorable, sensitive guide dog, Cooper?
My mother is… was a feisty lady, and she provided me with endless material for stories that recapped our conversations.
I will entitle future stories about my mother, rather than Conversations with the Lady…
