That's an interesting photo of my mother, Pauline (Faulstick) Way, Deborah's Nana Pauline. Normally she would exhibit a sort of frown as she tried to force a smile.
Talk about memories! I could write a book about her. One memory that stands out is her taking a job to make it possible for me to go to college. She worked at Binney and Smith Co. on the 6pm-12am shift. She ran machines that labeled and packed crayons. The work involved handling thousands of crayons each shift. That contributed greatly to the arthritis that damaged her fingers.
Now, in the winter of my life, I'm so glad for all the memories. They add happiness to each day. Sadly, I have questions about things that could only be answered by Mom. I wish she were still here to provide answers. My advice to younger generations is to ask questions of your elders while you can.
My father died 20 years ago and his birthday is next week. Twenty years seems an impossible number. I am now closer to the age he died than to the age I was when he died—a grief math that leaves me unmoored. Just a few days ago I ached to just sit at the breakfast table and talk with him. He would talk current events with me when asked but would never force a discussion. He didn’t mind disagreements but avoided confrontation or a raised tone at every turn. He never dismissed with a “you’re too young to understand.” What would he say about today’s world? Would he have advice or admit his own lack of knowledge to make sense of such senseless cruelty and chaos. Every time I smell fresh cut wood I think of him; he was an hobby woodworker who made toys and furniture. Every time I see a cloth recliner, I am still transported to the feeling of crawling into his lap for an extended hug, even into my teens. He was around to see my two children but my youngest says: I don’t think I have any actual memories of him, but I have so many memories of you telling stories about him that it feels like I knew him. And that is the greatest comfort I’ve found.
This piece is so lovely. Thank you for sharing it. I miss both of my parents, both of whom passed away in July. At the moment, I am in that heartfelt "no-man's-land", between the anniversary dates of their passing. My mother also passed before meeting her first great-grandchild, although she met her baby great-grand on facetime. My mother passed away on the day she was due to be released from the hospital, and I was in the air flying to see her. When I landed I learned the horrific news. The kindness of strangers, from the woman sitting next to me on the plane (taxiing to the gate took forever), to the people in line for taxis at the airport, is forever remembered and appreciated. My mother adored her grandchildren. This adoration is evident in the pictures of her that I still gaze at. My baby granddaughter is named for her. I swear my mother has visited. The years in the absence of my parents is technically years, but it often feels like days. I still cannot wrap my comprehension around their departure. Again, thank you for this visit into the love and special relationships with my parents.
It's so good that you have those kindnesses to remember along with the terrible loss. I bet you're right that your mother has visited. 💓 Maybe you have a keepthing you'd like to write about?
I miss my loving friend Rebekah aka Rebie. She had a tragic childhood, having witnessed her father kill her mother. Being the eldest of three kids, she took it upon herself to hold her and her siblings together. She and I met in Al-Anon, where she gave of herself tirelessly as a sponsor and, to me, a friend. She helped me move out when I left my alcoholic husband, and said, "Hi, cutie!" whenever she saw me. She was a real estate broker and the 2008 crash really hurt her. She died 13 years ago of a brain tumor at the age of 49.
I miss my parents every day and in different ways as my relationship with each was very different. My relationship with my Dad was father/child and sadly we fought the evening prior to his death and I never got to apologize or atone. My relationship with my Mom grew into a friendship as I aged and, as the most local of her kids, became the caregiver as she aged. There are many times when I wish I could talk to them and hear their voices answer me and also with what is happening in/to our country and around the world right now am also glad they are not here to experience it. Thank you for writing this, it helps more than you can know.
I have been thinking about my friend Octavia, who died way too young of cancer. I met her when she was sitting at a cafe next to me, showing her portfolio of wedding pictures to a bride looking to hire a photographer. I was eavesdropping (as I do) and loved both the photos I could see and her vibe. I was also getting married soon, got her card and ended up hiring her. We became friends both before and after she took our wedding pictures. Octavia was a petite woman with a big presence. She had long, coppery red hair and a deep love of cats. When she knew that her life wouldn't be long, she started taking the photos she really wanted to take, including a series called "Letting Go," photographing people moving away from all sorts of things. She was a lovely person, and I miss her.
Thank you so much for asking this question. I am the age my dad was when he died. He was cantankerous but also played with all four of us kids, laughed with us, devoted himself to making us smart, was certain we were brilliant, and got all of us to college. There were times our relationship was strained, but by the end of his life, I knew exactly how lucky I was to have had him for a father. I wrote a poem about him that by some wild stroke of luck, was accepted in Rattle. https://rattle.com/last-rodeo-by-sherri-alms/
I'm slapping my forehead. I have read Keepthings for years and wondered about several things I have from my grandmothers. But my dad's beloved socks, never. Thanks for the good idea, Deborah!
Sweet mémoires of those I loved come to my mind a lot. I miss my parents, my mother's sisters who were unmarried and doted on my siblings and me, and recently friends who have passed away. Growing older is hard to navigate, but I am blessed by precious memories. Thank you for this post.
Thank you so much for reading. I feel like I have an ongoing relationship with Pauline; maybe you have one with your people too. And as I've said to others, maybe you have a story for The Keepthings?
That's an interesting photo of my mother, Pauline (Faulstick) Way, Deborah's Nana Pauline. Normally she would exhibit a sort of frown as she tried to force a smile.
Talk about memories! I could write a book about her. One memory that stands out is her taking a job to make it possible for me to go to college. She worked at Binney and Smith Co. on the 6pm-12am shift. She ran machines that labeled and packed crayons. The work involved handling thousands of crayons each shift. That contributed greatly to the arthritis that damaged her fingers.
Now, in the winter of my life, I'm so glad for all the memories. They add happiness to each day. Sadly, I have questions about things that could only be answered by Mom. I wish she were still here to provide answers. My advice to younger generations is to ask questions of your elders while you can.
My father died 20 years ago and his birthday is next week. Twenty years seems an impossible number. I am now closer to the age he died than to the age I was when he died—a grief math that leaves me unmoored. Just a few days ago I ached to just sit at the breakfast table and talk with him. He would talk current events with me when asked but would never force a discussion. He didn’t mind disagreements but avoided confrontation or a raised tone at every turn. He never dismissed with a “you’re too young to understand.” What would he say about today’s world? Would he have advice or admit his own lack of knowledge to make sense of such senseless cruelty and chaos. Every time I smell fresh cut wood I think of him; he was an hobby woodworker who made toys and furniture. Every time I see a cloth recliner, I am still transported to the feeling of crawling into his lap for an extended hug, even into my teens. He was around to see my two children but my youngest says: I don’t think I have any actual memories of him, but I have so many memories of you telling stories about him that it feels like I knew him. And that is the greatest comfort I’ve found.
I'd love to read a Keepthings story about your dad 💓
This made me cry. He sounds wonderful. So good to have those sense memories 💓
This piece is so lovely. Thank you for sharing it. I miss both of my parents, both of whom passed away in July. At the moment, I am in that heartfelt "no-man's-land", between the anniversary dates of their passing. My mother also passed before meeting her first great-grandchild, although she met her baby great-grand on facetime. My mother passed away on the day she was due to be released from the hospital, and I was in the air flying to see her. When I landed I learned the horrific news. The kindness of strangers, from the woman sitting next to me on the plane (taxiing to the gate took forever), to the people in line for taxis at the airport, is forever remembered and appreciated. My mother adored her grandchildren. This adoration is evident in the pictures of her that I still gaze at. My baby granddaughter is named for her. I swear my mother has visited. The years in the absence of my parents is technically years, but it often feels like days. I still cannot wrap my comprehension around their departure. Again, thank you for this visit into the love and special relationships with my parents.
It's so good that you have those kindnesses to remember along with the terrible loss. I bet you're right that your mother has visited. 💓 Maybe you have a keepthing you'd like to write about?
Thanks for the thought and inspiration. Maybe I do. Yes! Maybe I do. I am marinating in this idea. I appreciate your comment to me. <3
I miss my loving friend Rebekah aka Rebie. She had a tragic childhood, having witnessed her father kill her mother. Being the eldest of three kids, she took it upon herself to hold her and her siblings together. She and I met in Al-Anon, where she gave of herself tirelessly as a sponsor and, to me, a friend. She helped me move out when I left my alcoholic husband, and said, "Hi, cutie!" whenever she saw me. She was a real estate broker and the 2008 crash really hurt her. She died 13 years ago of a brain tumor at the age of 49.
Wow, I would miss her too. What a giver! Thank you for sharing her here 💓
Thank you for sharing about your Nana and giving us space to share our loved ones.
💓💓💓
Maybe you have a story about Rebie for The Keepthings?
I miss my parents every day and in different ways as my relationship with each was very different. My relationship with my Dad was father/child and sadly we fought the evening prior to his death and I never got to apologize or atone. My relationship with my Mom grew into a friendship as I aged and, as the most local of her kids, became the caregiver as she aged. There are many times when I wish I could talk to them and hear their voices answer me and also with what is happening in/to our country and around the world right now am also glad they are not here to experience it. Thank you for writing this, it helps more than you can know.
I have regrets similar to the ones you have with your dad. I hope your happy memories outweigh them 💓
most days I am OK but on others, the sadness of that is overwhelming.
I'd love to read a Keepthings story about them 💓
My grandma. Her birthday is coming up. ☹️
❤️🩹❤️🩹❤️🩹
I have been thinking about my friend Octavia, who died way too young of cancer. I met her when she was sitting at a cafe next to me, showing her portfolio of wedding pictures to a bride looking to hire a photographer. I was eavesdropping (as I do) and loved both the photos I could see and her vibe. I was also getting married soon, got her card and ended up hiring her. We became friends both before and after she took our wedding pictures. Octavia was a petite woman with a big presence. She had long, coppery red hair and a deep love of cats. When she knew that her life wouldn't be long, she started taking the photos she really wanted to take, including a series called "Letting Go," photographing people moving away from all sorts of things. She was a lovely person, and I miss her.
I also eavesdrop and I love that you became friends this way. This is beautiful, and Octavia sounds beautiful 🧡
Thank you so much for asking this question. I am the age my dad was when he died. He was cantankerous but also played with all four of us kids, laughed with us, devoted himself to making us smart, was certain we were brilliant, and got all of us to college. There were times our relationship was strained, but by the end of his life, I knew exactly how lucky I was to have had him for a father. I wrote a poem about him that by some wild stroke of luck, was accepted in Rattle. https://rattle.com/last-rodeo-by-sherri-alms/
What a great poem. Maybe you have a story for The Keepthings?
I'm slapping my forehead. I have read Keepthings for years and wondered about several things I have from my grandmothers. But my dad's beloved socks, never. Thanks for the good idea, Deborah!
Sweet mémoires of those I loved come to my mind a lot. I miss my parents, my mother's sisters who were unmarried and doted on my siblings and me, and recently friends who have passed away. Growing older is hard to navigate, but I am blessed by precious memories. Thank you for this post.
Thank you so much for reading. I feel like I have an ongoing relationship with Pauline; maybe you have one with your people too. And as I've said to others, maybe you have a story for The Keepthings?
It is so good to read something by you! Thank you for this memory.
This summer, I am digging through a ton of my mom’s and grandmother’s letters, journals and manuscripts —research for my book—which, wow, is a LOT.
I'll bet! But in a good way, no doubt!