I’m usually up and mentally preparing for the day and for Mama on Christmas morning…well, today, two outta three ain’t bad. It’s been a little more than 6 months now since she passed away, and today is the first Christmas in years that I won’t be her personal Santa Claus. We’d hit a true reversal of roles on Christmas Day in the past several years; she, no longer able to shop or buy gifts for any of us, but me, always making sure she had gifts to open and surprises to look forward to. Many times it was standard purchases of things she needed, like pajamas and comfy clothes. But like any “good kid”, I’d splurge for fun things or special requests, just to see the joy on her face. The photo you see there, above, was a moment captured on Christmas 2013. During our visit, Mama asked about a new word she’d heard, “selfie”.
“Kimberly, what in the world is a selfie?”
“It’s when you use your cell phone to take a picture of yourself, Mama.”
“How in the world do you do that??”
Well, it was easier to show her, than tell her. Voila, Mama. A selfie. She got so tickled watching me try to manipulate the camera to get us both in the frame, and in focus. Mama was no more technically inclined than her flip phone, so this was a fascinating treat for her and now, a sweet, sweet memory for me.
Last year, Christmas 2016, less than 6 months before she would leave us, I told my husband, “I think this will be Mama’s last Christmas”. Her health was deteriorating quickly, and she was beginning to have “end” conversations with me, wrapping up any loose ends she felt were still unraveled in her life. My gut spoke to me, and I’m glad I heard it and I listened. I knew I wanted to make it a super special day for her, and I planned a surprise for her that turned out to be the greatest gift I’ve ever given myself.
She’s gonna haunt me for posting this picture of her. She’s blurry in the photo, because she wouldn’t be still. Her response to the gift she’s holding was more than I could have ever wished for. She’s crying happy tears of joy and surprise, and she just kept repeating, “oh my goodness, oh I can’t believe it”. You see, what’s in her hands is a gift that represents our lives coming full circle, and as it turns out, just in time. Let me explain.
My mother loved to crochet, and she was very good at it. She always had a crochet project of some types in the works; and her time in front of the TV always included a crochet needle in her hand. Growing up, me and my brother always had crocheted afghans that either belonged to us personally, or were readily available in the household linen closet. And when Mama felt like we had enough at home, she was happy to make and give afghans to her family and closest friends. She just loved making them, and many folks were blessed with her gifts along the way. As a child, I watched her make them, and I wanted to learn to crochet too! I picked up some tips from her, and also learned on my own, and I’ve been quite the crafty crocheter myself for a while now. It dawned on me, though, all these years, she’s made me numerous crocheted afghans, and I’ve never made a single one for her.
I got this bright idea, though, in late fall 2016. I wouldn’t have enough time to complete a full size crocheted afghan for her, so I decided I’d improvise. One of my favorite gifts to give is an ordinary fleece blanket that can be found at most any retailer, that I customize by adding a fancy or colorful crocheted border to. That’s what I proceeded to do for Mama. I gave her no warning that she’d be receiving any gifts out of the ordinary; I just presented the box along with the others, only stipulating that she open it last. (I actually have a video of her opening it, but the tech gods are not smiling on me this morning and I can’t get it to load here. I may try to add it to the comments via FB once this posts.) As she’s opening it, I’m giving her hints: “This is something you’ve always done for me, but I’ve never done for you.” As she pulls out the first layer of tissue stuffing she sarcastically says, “You bought me tissue?” Hardy har har, Mama. “No, I didn’t buy you tissue.” Then the moment came that I will cherish forever; she felt the soft blanket and pulled it out, seeing for the first time the crocheted stitches. There wasn’t a dry eye in the room. The love, the reaction, the symbolism, the everything…time stopped for me in that moment, and the little girl who always sought to please her mama was whole.
That blanket now rests on my couch, and when I look at it, I can’t help but smile. Mama is with me, she’s with my brother, she watches closely over her sisters; we all have stories that are evidence that the spirit of Mama hasn’t moved far from us at all. So on this first Christmas without her, I’m thankful for all those Christmases I had with her.
Merry Christmas to each of you and your families. Make special memories today that will last a lifetime.
Just Get Happy 