I haven't written much lately. I have been working on scrapbooks, arts and crafts projects and Christmas stuff. At first I didn't really think much about this sudden need to make things... I mean I have always liked doing crafty stuff, but this is getting crazy. But as I sat here working on Ava's scrap book, I realized what is going on with me. It is finally starting to sink in that this is terminal. No... I am not giving up, but I am more aware of how limited my time is.
See... There is, or rather, was a customer at my store who I have been very close with. She has been coming there for over 7 years. She had stage 4 breast cancer. Over the past few years, I have watched her battle it in her chest, her lungs, her eyes and finally it hit her brain. She has been there for me since I was diagnosed, giving me advice, a hug, encouragement and watching her keep on living let me know that I can do it too. A month ago, she stopped Chemo completely. She said she is tired and can't do it anymore. A week later, hospice was called in. A week after that, she was in the hospital. Three days later, she passed. She knew it was coming. She found homes for her dogs, arranged for who was going to take custody of her nephews who both lived with her, got her affairs in order and then she was gone. I watched for the funeral announcement, but it never came. Her family is so dysfunctional they just buried her and never thought that anyone outside of the family would want to pay their respects. I am actually certain that it was mostly a money thing- her brother is a crack addict and her only son is in Iraq. That was all the family she had outside of her extended "family" of people like my store staff, the staff of the grocery store who also loved her, the staff at the hair salon and other people from the community who saw her every day.
It's been a month now since she passed and I think about her at odd times. But the thing is... I remember her. And truthfully, who doesn't want to be remembered? What triggers my memory of her is the sound of someone walking with a cane, the sight of a chihuahua in a car, a woman laughing out loud; things I associated with her visiting me. So I started making things.
Believe me... I am no artist. My crafts are done pretty much the way I do most things, which is "Ehhh... that'll do." For someone who can be such a perfectionist in some areas, that is not one of them. I like what I make, but I know that it could be better. Yet the point isn't to make something perfect, it's to make something that makes the recipient think of me. So, don't be surprised if you open a present from me to find some really odd home crafted something or other. It just means I love you, I thought about you and I want you to remember me when I am gone.
See... There is, or rather, was a customer at my store who I have been very close with. She has been coming there for over 7 years. She had stage 4 breast cancer. Over the past few years, I have watched her battle it in her chest, her lungs, her eyes and finally it hit her brain. She has been there for me since I was diagnosed, giving me advice, a hug, encouragement and watching her keep on living let me know that I can do it too. A month ago, she stopped Chemo completely. She said she is tired and can't do it anymore. A week later, hospice was called in. A week after that, she was in the hospital. Three days later, she passed. She knew it was coming. She found homes for her dogs, arranged for who was going to take custody of her nephews who both lived with her, got her affairs in order and then she was gone. I watched for the funeral announcement, but it never came. Her family is so dysfunctional they just buried her and never thought that anyone outside of the family would want to pay their respects. I am actually certain that it was mostly a money thing- her brother is a crack addict and her only son is in Iraq. That was all the family she had outside of her extended "family" of people like my store staff, the staff of the grocery store who also loved her, the staff at the hair salon and other people from the community who saw her every day.
It's been a month now since she passed and I think about her at odd times. But the thing is... I remember her. And truthfully, who doesn't want to be remembered? What triggers my memory of her is the sound of someone walking with a cane, the sight of a chihuahua in a car, a woman laughing out loud; things I associated with her visiting me. So I started making things.
Believe me... I am no artist. My crafts are done pretty much the way I do most things, which is "Ehhh... that'll do." For someone who can be such a perfectionist in some areas, that is not one of them. I like what I make, but I know that it could be better. Yet the point isn't to make something perfect, it's to make something that makes the recipient think of me. So, don't be surprised if you open a present from me to find some really odd home crafted something or other. It just means I love you, I thought about you and I want you to remember me when I am gone.
no matter how many years have passed since we last spoke, the greatest gift i have from you is seeing your face and reading your words. you give me strength and hope. you remind me to live, love and forgive without hesitation.
ReplyDeletealways my hero, always my friend!
I love you Ms. Nancy!
ReplyDelete