(The featured image picture is of a four-year-old me and my older brother)
My oldest granddaughter, Lilly, turned four this past week.
She is aware of everything around her, talkative, animated, beautiful, and just plain smart. I am biased but truthful. She notices when I change the slightest thing, such as adding a picture or putting a new hand towel in the bathroom.
Lilly is excited about her new baby brother, who will arrive in June. Walking to the park, special ice cream, a book, a new toy, or a trip to Costco also creates equal enthusiasm.
It isn’t lost on me that before my fourth birthday, my Mommy would also bring a baby brother or sister to our home. I remember being very happy at the notion of a baby to love.
However, my fourth birthday came and went.
Everyone was sad, and I was confused. My Mom and baby sister had both died and weren’t ever coming home.
I have pictures of my family before that birthday, but it is like I’m looking at someone else. Other than flashbacks from the funeral, I don’t remember anything about my Mom or my life before that time.
I suspect my mother’s sudden absence made remembering too painful.
I recall moving to our house in the country with my new stepmother about a year later.
She was hell-bent on starting fresh and “not living in the past.” She was our mother now, trying to navigate her way as a part of our family.
With the addition of my stepmother, my birth mother’s side of the family slowly disappeared.
I remember finding pictures of my birth mom packed in the closet, displaying our life before everything changed. Within days, the pictures vanished.
Maybe my stepmother thought we would somehow forget if we didn’t have photos to remind us of our previous life.
I often wondered what my life would have been like if my mother had lived. I questioned what I would have learned and experienced that was now impossible.
Like my granddaughters, I was also an outgoing, happy child; at least, that is who I see in the pictures. I am grateful to have the opportunity to relive my childhood through them.
——————————————————————————————————————–
(l/R Aunt Evelyn, Aunt Georgia, my Mom Irma, seated, Grandma B, their Mom)
My maternal grandmother died when I was twelve, and since then, my Aunt Georgia has been the oldest living relative related to my Mom. She was with her the day she died.
As a child, I thought everyone on my Mom’s side of the family was strikingly artistic. They knew how to paint, sew, craft, and decorate. I wanted to belong to their creative world and have their talent somehow rub off on me.
My aunt and I connected off and on over the years. She came from Illinois to Florida for my wedding, which felt like a part of my Mom was there. I’ve visited her several times, even bringing my son for the first time at Christmas in early 2000.
She gave me many pictures from my childhood and of my mother, such as the one above. I cherish them all. Pictures stop time and allow a glimpse of life in a moment.
The last time I saw my Aunt Georgia was in 2012 when I attended a conference in the area.
During COVID-19, I became interested in genealogy and discovered that my older cousin Becky also lived in Florida. She is my Aunt Evelyn’s daughter.
We emailed often and met for lunch a couple of hours away about a year later. She told me fascinating stories about my Mom and our Grandma B. She is a beautiful woman inside and out, and I am grateful to have connected with a relative on my Mom’s side of the family.
This past week, Becky messaged asking if I knew about Aunt Georgia. She had found her obituary online from over two years ago. I was shocked.
At least I was told by another relative and not by searching online.
My aunt was 95 but always healthy and active. Over the past few years, I’ve thought of her and my cousins. I suppose I just preferred to assume everyone was the same as the last time I saw them.
It hurt that her daughters, my cousins, didn’t inform me two years ago, but at the same time, I am pretty sure it wasn’t a conscious decision. I wasn’t even on their radar. They were grieving and planning, not thinking of distant relatives who had not been a part of their lives for years.
Still, it is as if another door has closed. Even less of a connection to my Mom exists on this planet; fewer people know of her existence.
It’s been an emotional week.
I have allowed myself to remember, to grieve, and even feel sorry for myself and lost relationships.
But then, as planned, my granddaughter’s birthday came. I am reminded that my priorities now are her, her sister, Mom, Dad, soon-to-be healthy baby brother, and my husband. They are my family.
I am responsible for helping to create joy, connection, and memories.
Time moves on. Love remains.
I hope my grandchildren will look fondly at this time and remember all the happiness they brought into our world. There will be a lot of pictures to document our experiences.
I hope they will relive the love and fun times when they think of my husband and me in fifty years and pass that connection on to their families.
Mostly, I hope this post reminds you that you most likely matter to more people than you think you do. Kind, thoughtful, and loving connections have a powerful and lasting effect on a person’s life.
Thank you for reading!
Keep smiling!
xx
You might also like
