Now there is one
It really hurt, that Christmas, when it hit home, forcefully, that I could not send flowers to my mother.
I had sent them for years at Christmas time, something to brighten up the house.
But that Christmas, Christmas 1999, if flowers were delivered to my mother, they would be with a grave cover.
We had lost her, in April of that year, to the cancers that plague those in my mother’s family who smoked or drank or smoked and drank.
And it hurt, approaching that Christmas season, when the reminders came in from the online florist I used.
So I decided to do something about it.
I decided to send flowers to the women in my family who had been important to my mother.
I sent them, that Christmas of 1999, to her sisters: my aunt Cladyne, my aunt Carol, my aunt Marianne, my aunt Trisha.
I sent them to two of my cousins: my oldest cousin Bobette, who’d always said my mother was her “other mother” and who’d cared for her so deeply; and to my cousin Susan, who had gone out of her way to make sure I could spend time with my mother in the very last days of her life.
Sending those flowers helped me feel a little better about that Christmas, that year, fifteen years ago.
And so I kept sending the flowers, year after year.
In 2000.
In 2001.
In 2002.
In 2003.
In 2004, 2005, 2006.
But one fewer arrangement was delivered in 2007. We lost Marianne in September of that year, another victim of tobacco.
And one fewer was delivered in 2009. We lost Cladyne in November of that year.
And one fewer was delivered in 2011. We lost Bobette in August, yet another tobacco victim.
And one fewer was delivered in 2012. We lost Carol that October… today would have been her 83rd birthday.
Yesterday I placed the order for 2014.
And one fewer will be delivered this year. Just last month, we lost Susan to a recurrence of the breast cancer we all so hoped she had beaten.
So tell me… is it selfish to want my youngest aunt to outlive me?
To just want to go on sending those flowers every year…?
To have someone left in this world who loved my mother… and who my mother loved…?
Yes, the holidays may be the “happiest time of year.”
But — for so many of us — they are not the easiest.
This post grabbed me. What a beautiful tribute to your mother and your extended family. Thinking of you during this wonderful time of the year.
And best wishes to you and yours, Kathy.
We just lost my mother-in-law on the first of December. She would have turned 91 years old on the 14th, so we’ve already experienced the first of those milestone dates without her. Christmas will be hard, especially for the grandkids and great-grandkids who lived nearby and had a close relationship with her.
The first year is always hardest, Linda. Time does make it better… but the loss never really heals.
Judy, you have me in tears. I’m so sorry for your loss, the one that started this to the latest. I think that if that day comes, you send them to the women in your life who your mother would have loved. If your relationship with your mother was like mine is with my mother, you’ll know who they are.
There are many of those, Ann… her granddaughters and great granddaughters among them… but I do wish they could have known her too.
Judy, My condolences to you on the loss of so many beloved women. I, too, have reflected on the passing of those in the previous generation, and that a some of those in my generation are gone now too. But I find delight and comfort and joy on the arrival of great-nieces, great-nephews and a grandchild Perhaps I you could start a new tradition with another generation in your family.
We surely do have those new generations, too, Emily. We’ve welcomed Sydney, Phoenix, Addyson (nicknamed Totsi after my mother, whose nickname was Totsy), Isadora, Martin, Jack and Beatrix to the ranks of my mother’s great grandchildren — and expect a whole lot more as the years go on.
Christmas is bittersweet as we reflect on those who are not here any longer to celebrate with us. But I think I do hear the tinkle of little bells, and I’m hoping that our cool mothers and aunts and other dear ones have met each other in the great beyond and they’re celebrating an especially joyful Christmas and are tickled to know one another, just as we are thankful to have our extended genealogy family right here. Merry Christmas, Judy, from one daughter to another.
I sure understand how bittersweet this Christmas will be for you, Pam… Hugs and yes let’s all draw comfort from our memories… and each other…
I agree with Pam “Christmas is bittersweet.” Two days ago I visited my parents graves at the Veteran’s Home. The first sections were all decked out with fresh evergreen wreaths and red bows. They never make it far enough back to the section my parents are buried in and so it goes….The more Christmases that have passed us the more we will remember all those who have passed. Old places at the table are replaced with new babies and youngsters—yes bittersweet. And so it goes….
Aw, Kelly… wish the wreath folks could get to them all…
Judy – such a lovely post and perhaps helps me to understand even more why my own mother this year burst into tears when I said we weren’t going to be going to see her on Christmas Day.
She lost both her parents and two half-sisters many years ago but it never gets any easier. She apologised for her tears and said that ‘nostalgia got the better’ of her. All were lost to cancer though none were smokers or drinkers themselves.
Thoughts with you x
Gentle hugs for your Mom, Kirsty. It’s hard, always hard, and harder I think the older we get.
Your words hit home. I lost my mom in June and am finding this Christmas hard. I’m fortunate to have my Dad, brother, and cousins who loved and were loved by her but it’s not the same. I keep wanting to call her and ask for a recipe or crow about finding another ancestor or just visit.
I love the idea of sending flowers to other ladies who knew and loved her now that I can’t send them to Mom. That would bring a happy out of a sad.
So sorry for your loss, Anne… and yes, anything that brings a happy out of a sad is worth doing…
Thank you, Judy. This brought tears to my eyes. My grandmother (100 years old last May) sometimes talks about how she’d like to send her mother flowers for her birthday but that she doesn’t think they do deliveries in heaven. So sweet.
Aw… gentle hugs for your grandmother. What a treasure still having her…
You story brought me to tears too. Lost my mom to cancer 42 years ago – can’t believe it has been that long. For me it has gotten easier as the years have past. It doesn’t get to me as often or as deeply as it did early on.
What a wonderful way to keep life going with your own family. Reminds me of how we need to really appreciate the people we love and show it every chance we get. Most of the time, we never know when it just might be the last birthday, holiday, anniversary…that we will have with them. Makes me think of the comment I have heard many times at funerals and wakes, “I wish all these people could have thrown this big get together and share all these wonderful memories with my loved one when they were still here and would have loved it. There is still time for the loved ones still with us. Let’s not miss the chance we have.
>>Let’s not miss the chance we have.
Worth repeating. And repeating. And repeating.
I love this post. What a lovely thought, that I still have women in my family who knew and loved my mother, even though she’s been gone for 33 years. They are getting fewer though. It’s a good reason to reach out at Christmas or any other time.
It is a good reason to reach out, Joy, and I hope you can and do!
Your posts about your family always bring me to tears but this one, especially, got me. What a wonderful tribute to your mother to have sent flowers to those who were special in her life for 15 years, but how hard to one by one have to omit their names from the list.
My mother died in 2013 just 15 days before her 85th birthday – boy, was that a hard day. And while these milestones never get easier, they do become a little more ‘normal’ and bearable.
Happy holidays, Judy!
My mother died 3 decades ago, and though I took care of her during her final weeks, she was too sick for us to talk about the many things I still wanted to learn from her and about her. I am fortunate to have an “aunt” who was my mom’s closest friend, and who was also married to my father’s cousin. She became my second mom, and I love her dearly. Now, at age 97, she is the last left of her family, and I am the oldest living of mine. I have learned from her not only about my mom, but several generations of my dad’s family (they all grew up near each other).
While listening to her talk, I learned that she had met only a few of her own family beyond her parents and siblings and knew nearly nothing about them beyond where her parents were born and married. I set aside working on my family’s genealogy and began working on hers, focusing my interviews of her on what she could remember of her family, where and how they had lived, and as much detail as she could provide. Within weeks I was able to track down four generations of her father’s family, and have a location for her mother’s family and names of her grandparents.
Though I have more research to do, just before Christmas I made a simple chart showing the names, dates, and what information I’d been able to glean thus far, and went through it with my aunt. Not as fancy as flowers, but it was so moving to hear her pleasure at hearing about her family for the first time. We both had tears. Hearing some of the names triggered yet more memories from her. So far everything she has told me I have been able to verify. What richness this has provided for both of us. I am so grateful that I could give her something back for all the love she has given me.
Annie, that may be the single sweetest story to come out of this whole Christmas season. Good for you! What a nice thing to do!