Momento mori
Another victim of cancer... another daughter rehearsing a eulogy today...CM was running through what she's going to say on Wednesday at her Mom's funeral when I spoke with her. MJM talked about how she just lost her best friend. I wasn't really her daughter, but I share in their loss.
Growing up there was a place I could always turn to when I needed love: Missie B's kitchen. Just down the road, the M family always knew when I needed extra care. I've mentioned my mother as a famous cook and brilliant woman, but our kitchen never resonated the warmth that Missie B's had. When I was sad, I was fortunate enough to have a 2nd family looking out for me, with Missie B always willing to welcome me into her kitchen.
She was a warm and loving soul.
Part of me wants to go to her funeral to pay my last respects, and give her my thanks. Part of me thinks I should stay away. Do I stay or do I go? Tick-tock-tick-tock. I need to make a final decision. The funeral is in New Hampshire, so I need to make arrangements. I think Missie B would say that I shouldn't leave my kids, husband and dog. Part of me, though, is drawn to go.
Maybe a better way to honor her memory is to make sure my own kitchen is a place of refuge for other people's children the way hers was for me? Does someone else's child, someone who needs a little extra love, feel they can come to me for love and support the way I did with Missie B? Will any of C or N's friends think of me when they are 40, and remember me as that person they could turn to when they needed love as I remember her?
The next time I am feeling impatient or overwhelmed, I should remember what being a great mother looks like, and practice Missie B's example. In an age when mothering was NOT a competitive sport, she was a winner! Rest peacefully, Missie B. God knows you deserve it after a lifetime of taking care of others! And thanks for the pizzelles.
Growing up there was a place I could always turn to when I needed love: Missie B's kitchen. Just down the road, the M family always knew when I needed extra care. I've mentioned my mother as a famous cook and brilliant woman, but our kitchen never resonated the warmth that Missie B's had. When I was sad, I was fortunate enough to have a 2nd family looking out for me, with Missie B always willing to welcome me into her kitchen.
She was a warm and loving soul.
Part of me wants to go to her funeral to pay my last respects, and give her my thanks. Part of me thinks I should stay away. Do I stay or do I go? Tick-tock-tick-tock. I need to make a final decision. The funeral is in New Hampshire, so I need to make arrangements. I think Missie B would say that I shouldn't leave my kids, husband and dog. Part of me, though, is drawn to go.
Maybe a better way to honor her memory is to make sure my own kitchen is a place of refuge for other people's children the way hers was for me? Does someone else's child, someone who needs a little extra love, feel they can come to me for love and support the way I did with Missie B? Will any of C or N's friends think of me when they are 40, and remember me as that person they could turn to when they needed love as I remember her?
The next time I am feeling impatient or overwhelmed, I should remember what being a great mother looks like, and practice Missie B's example. In an age when mothering was NOT a competitive sport, she was a winner! Rest peacefully, Missie B. God knows you deserve it after a lifetime of taking care of others! And thanks for the pizzelles.
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