It took me years to read my mom's journals after she had died. I'm glad I waited, because my mom (like me) tended to only write in a journal when she was extremely mad or sad, and it was difficult to read so many passages where she was clearly in emotional pain. Even so, I'm so glad I have them, and it was such a gift to read them - the moments where she talked about me were so loving, so full of care, and made me feel close to her again. In one entry, she wrote "Grace is loud but shy" and it made me laugh out loud and cry all at once to feel how clearly my mom saw me, even when I was four years old. It was such a simple thing to write, but it was proof to me of what I already knew: she saw me, she understood me, she loved me. She knew me better than anyone. She will always have known me better than anyone.
She died in our living room with the help of hospice care when I was thirteen. When we first moved into that house when I was eight years old, she declared that she loved it so much that the only way she'd ever leave was in a body bag. (Nailed it, Mom - way to hit those goals!) It was surreal to see hospice pack up everything they'd brought, to see everyone who'd come to say their final goodbyes go home to their own beds, and to be left standing in a living room that had no physical evidence of her death at all.
I don't have a way to neatly end this message, but I just wanted to say I'm with you, and thank you for sharing. <3
This was a beautiful essay. I subscribed to you recently and am so grateful for your posts. I lost my daughter in June and her name is Robin. I’m not sure if I believe in signs or if I did what sign that would be, but reading your relatable grief post and seeing her name made me smile.
My aunt died during the pandemic and I could only be with her through a window. As much as I loved my mom, my aunt was the the loving supportive mother I needed. When my sister, brother, and I went back to her house we found a note she left by her bedside that outlined her wishes for what to do with her possessions. She gave much of her beautiful furniture to my sister and brother. She left in my care her private papers and dozens of photo albums. Rather steamy love letters and piles of correspondences with her brother and sister written while she worked in the foreign service; photographs from the time she left home at 21 to the ones she and I took together in her last years. Your piece so thoroughly and gracefully depicted what it's like to go through what is ultimately a very privileged experience of holding a full life in your hands.
The sentimental things with little intrinsic value are some of the most precious. During the fires it was all I could think about. Yes, losing a home is devastating on several levels, but losing all the small things that tie us to our loved ones who have died is devastating on a deeply human level. People talk about saving the photo albums, which is fine, but my car was filled with things like my grandfather's shoes and my brother's notebooks.
I lost my grandmother almost a year ago. My grandfather is still around and I take some pieces of clothing out of her closet every time I visit him. It too brings me some kind of comfort to wear these things. She was very particular and extremely tidy with all her belongings so I feel close to her when I use the things she took such good care of. Even if my treatment of these items might be a bit more relaxed.
How magically human and beautifully shared. Thank you.
I too have met the thousands of little cherished moments, another would hardly notice, that beckon you to recall what hurts now because it mattered so very much then. They were always there, you just got distracted by life before. It is time going backwards in a world that only moves forward. And it whispers so poignantly to only those who know, because nothing else interrupts now.
I lost a brother. Suddenly. Long ago. The little things never lose their charm.
And your loved one is forever preserved in your memory and your heart, you carry the memories forward with you. And share them with others like us and it keeps her here in the present. Thank you for sharing her. Your mother sounds like a lovely person.
I believe journals and letters are left behind for a purpose. They contain moments the author felt worthy of memorializing for some reason. Something they deemed to preserve into the future, or vent without retribution, or grieve privately.
I wrote letters to my young daughters that I've yet never given to them - about them - at a time they would likely never recall. I always felt they should meet their "little selves".
If your mother had something to hide, that she did not truly want you to know, she would have destroyed the notes. She may not have ever wanted to face a conversation about them. But one only keeps things they believe have value.
They may contain somewhat mundane moments. But each will be a puzzle piece of what she felt mattered and perhaps you will meet a side of her you never knew. You will read them when you're ready. She left them so you can.
My Ma died a year ago come Sunday. Then, her husband decided to join her back in October. Now I have her last Hen, and their Cats.
Her last five years were plagued by dementia; her husband devoted himself to her care. I am finding it interesting that, as difficult as our relationship was over time, the good times are the memories that I hold close.
The others, fraught, angst ridden, are nowhere to be found.
Thank you for writing about what was obviously a difficult time. I agree that going through your mother’s things will be a kind of therapy. You also make the excellent point that you have also learnt some new things about your mother, because of the things she kept and the way she kept them. My husband left years of daily pages (stream of consciousness writing) but they were always private during his lifetime, so I felt I had to destroy them.
Thank you so much for sharing :) My Mom died a week ago and I am now living in a world I really hoped not to be a part of. She was my best friend and the one who bought me new pants and stylish coats. You've captured so many feelings I am also experiencing and I feel so grateful to not feel alone and feel understood. I am so sorry we have to do life like this now.
It took me years to read my mom's journals after she had died. I'm glad I waited, because my mom (like me) tended to only write in a journal when she was extremely mad or sad, and it was difficult to read so many passages where she was clearly in emotional pain. Even so, I'm so glad I have them, and it was such a gift to read them - the moments where she talked about me were so loving, so full of care, and made me feel close to her again. In one entry, she wrote "Grace is loud but shy" and it made me laugh out loud and cry all at once to feel how clearly my mom saw me, even when I was four years old. It was such a simple thing to write, but it was proof to me of what I already knew: she saw me, she understood me, she loved me. She knew me better than anyone. She will always have known me better than anyone.
She died in our living room with the help of hospice care when I was thirteen. When we first moved into that house when I was eight years old, she declared that she loved it so much that the only way she'd ever leave was in a body bag. (Nailed it, Mom - way to hit those goals!) It was surreal to see hospice pack up everything they'd brought, to see everyone who'd come to say their final goodbyes go home to their own beds, and to be left standing in a living room that had no physical evidence of her death at all.
I don't have a way to neatly end this message, but I just wanted to say I'm with you, and thank you for sharing. <3
This is so beautiful. Thank you so much for sharing a glimmer of your wonderful mother <3
This was a beautiful essay. I subscribed to you recently and am so grateful for your posts. I lost my daughter in June and her name is Robin. I’m not sure if I believe in signs or if I did what sign that would be, but reading your relatable grief post and seeing her name made me smile.
I chosen to believe in all the signs! Will take comfort wherever I can find it. May her memory be a blessing <3
My aunt died during the pandemic and I could only be with her through a window. As much as I loved my mom, my aunt was the the loving supportive mother I needed. When my sister, brother, and I went back to her house we found a note she left by her bedside that outlined her wishes for what to do with her possessions. She gave much of her beautiful furniture to my sister and brother. She left in my care her private papers and dozens of photo albums. Rather steamy love letters and piles of correspondences with her brother and sister written while she worked in the foreign service; photographs from the time she left home at 21 to the ones she and I took together in her last years. Your piece so thoroughly and gracefully depicted what it's like to go through what is ultimately a very privileged experience of holding a full life in your hands.
Thank you so much for sharing this. May her memory be a blessing <3
You are a stronger person than I. When my grandmother died I could not bring myself to set foot in her house. Too many memories.
Everyone grieves in different ways. I also think the moment these losses happen to us matter a lot. Sending love <3
The sentimental things with little intrinsic value are some of the most precious. During the fires it was all I could think about. Yes, losing a home is devastating on several levels, but losing all the small things that tie us to our loved ones who have died is devastating on a deeply human level. People talk about saving the photo albums, which is fine, but my car was filled with things like my grandfather's shoes and my brother's notebooks.
Such a good point! Some things are not replaceable. xoxo A
I lost my grandmother almost a year ago. My grandfather is still around and I take some pieces of clothing out of her closet every time I visit him. It too brings me some kind of comfort to wear these things. She was very particular and extremely tidy with all her belongings so I feel close to her when I use the things she took such good care of. Even if my treatment of these items might be a bit more relaxed.
I love that you do this! May her memory be a blessing <3
I'm feeling griefy today and I really appreciated reading this. Thank you
So sorry I'm only seeing this now! Sending love <3
This is so powerful!
Thank you for reading! - A
How magically human and beautifully shared. Thank you.
I too have met the thousands of little cherished moments, another would hardly notice, that beckon you to recall what hurts now because it mattered so very much then. They were always there, you just got distracted by life before. It is time going backwards in a world that only moves forward. And it whispers so poignantly to only those who know, because nothing else interrupts now.
I lost a brother. Suddenly. Long ago. The little things never lose their charm.
And your loved one is forever preserved in your memory and your heart, you carry the memories forward with you. And share them with others like us and it keeps her here in the present. Thank you for sharing her. Your mother sounds like a lovely person.
I believe journals and letters are left behind for a purpose. They contain moments the author felt worthy of memorializing for some reason. Something they deemed to preserve into the future, or vent without retribution, or grieve privately.
I wrote letters to my young daughters that I've yet never given to them - about them - at a time they would likely never recall. I always felt they should meet their "little selves".
If your mother had something to hide, that she did not truly want you to know, she would have destroyed the notes. She may not have ever wanted to face a conversation about them. But one only keeps things they believe have value.
They may contain somewhat mundane moments. But each will be a puzzle piece of what she felt mattered and perhaps you will meet a side of her you never knew. You will read them when you're ready. She left them so you can.
I love the idea of letting your daughters meet their "little selves!" What a beautiful gift to give them <3
This was such a heartfelt story. I really admire Allison's strength to post these stories.
Thank you so much for reading <3
My Ma died a year ago come Sunday. Then, her husband decided to join her back in October. Now I have her last Hen, and their Cats.
Her last five years were plagued by dementia; her husband devoted himself to her care. I am finding it interesting that, as difficult as our relationship was over time, the good times are the memories that I hold close.
The others, fraught, angst ridden, are nowhere to be found.
What a blessing.
I love that. Sometimes our minds take good care of us. <3 A
Thank you for writing about what was obviously a difficult time. I agree that going through your mother’s things will be a kind of therapy. You also make the excellent point that you have also learnt some new things about your mother, because of the things she kept and the way she kept them. My husband left years of daily pages (stream of consciousness writing) but they were always private during his lifetime, so I felt I had to destroy them.
I think it's beautiful you honored his privacy. May his memory be a blessing <3
Thank you so much for sharing :) My Mom died a week ago and I am now living in a world I really hoped not to be a part of. She was my best friend and the one who bought me new pants and stylish coats. You've captured so many feelings I am also experiencing and I feel so grateful to not feel alone and feel understood. I am so sorry we have to do life like this now.