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| Mom and Dad, Chris and Jerry. If you look closely . . . |
Get foolishly sentimental (ie. I’m never washing this!) over.
And why?
That jacket you bought that Peter Tork sneezed on when you went to that amazing concert back in ’66?
The red dress that was so eye-popping and perfect at the Christmas dance in ’80?
Those jeans that flattered so well and, even as they became more and more ragged, continued to be your best and truest friends from ’78 through to ‘92?
Those boots that were sooo warm and sooo comfortable that you wept when the sole ripped right out of the left one?
That slip.
Slip?
Ummm . . . Maybe I should explain . . .
My Mom was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease in the 1985 at the age of 61.
It is a horrifying, wasting sort of illness.
For several years, she gamely battled it, exercising, proper diet.
Medications.
But the disease won and she passed into eternity on April 9, 2002.
We were happy for her – she had been so ill.
But sad for the rest of us.
In the months after her death, Dad found homes for her jewellery, clothes and keepsakes.
Each of her three daughters carted home boxes of Mom’s ‘stuff’.
Special because it had been hers.
I had great fun going through my boxes.
Immersing myself in the memories.
I put jewellery into my own case, remembering special pieces Mom had worn.
Set fancy, fun hats on the shelf in the closet, thinking about the times I had sneaked into her closet to play dress-up with them.
Hung up dresses and other clothes. More memories.
And went back to my normal life.
Then, Sunday rolled around.
I should point out here that we dress in our best for Sunday worship services.
It’s just our way . . .
I scrambled through my closet for a slip and grabbed the first one I came to. One of my Mom's.
I slipped it on.
And was immediately immersed in the soft scent of Mom’s ‘special occasion’ perfume.
I had forgotten.
Mom had been ill for so long, and, in all that time, had worn no perfume at all.
Suddenly, I was lost in memories.
Mom hugging me before she and Dad went out somewhere special.
Mom sitting beside me in Church.
Mom smiling across from me in a restaurant.
And thousands and thousands more.
It took me a long time to get ready that day.
Stepping from the softly-lit past into the garishly -coloured present took great effort.
After church, I hung the slip up carefully.
Almost reverently.
And vowed never to wash it again.
And vowed never to wash it again.
I’m not there, yet. But, I imagine this will be how I’ll feel with my mom. Embracing these treasured times now.
ReplyDeleteYou took me back to my memories. I have my mom’s bathrobe and I wear it often in the winter. It comforts me. It has been washed, though, many, many times, but I can still feel enveloped in her arms.
ReplyDeleteI live surrounded by physical memories of my parents.....it's wonderful and it's hard all at the same time. Shoot...now I can barely see to type.
ReplyDeleteI've never had any clothes that held the scent of perfume. I don't wear perfume myself, but even going through my mother's things, nothing was perfumed. And none of it fit me either, so the local Goodwill store got everything.
ReplyDeleteI remember very well my favourite jeans though. I still have them. At least I have what's left of them, raggedy short shorts that I only wear inside the house in summer.
Such a precious memory. Am I right in thinking a few tears were shed?
ReplyDeleteScents can bring back memory that is starling and real. Lovely words about your mother. I wrote about some of the clothing from my past life--it's in my novel. Not sure it will stay, but it was fun remembering.
ReplyDeleteI had to deal with all of my father's things as my parents are divorced and my only sibling lives too far away to help. I was okay with getting rid of almost everything. But he had a pair of hand knit wool socks he wore in bed at night. In fact, it was usually me who put them on his feet, because the caregivers couldn't seem to remember. Those socks - I just can't pass them on, at least not yet. Maybe never.
ReplyDeleteAnd, like EC, I suspect there were a few tears on your part when you caught a whiff of your mom's perfume.
Beautifully written! I love the reverence with which you speak of your mom. That precious slip. Do they even get worn anymore? I too, remember my mom's slips that she wore to church. some were more pretty than others, with their lace trimming and carefully sewn darts. It's funny isn't it? the things that we hold dear, because of the memories they hold......
ReplyDeleteSo sweet, Diane, and I love those things that remind us of people that do not have a dollar value but make us rich in our memories.
ReplyDeleteMost most most beautiful and sweet and sad.
ReplyDelete