To make a long story much shorter, we put our house on the market in March and were in the process of moving back home to Illinois to be with my mother and other family members when the unthinkable happened--Mom passed away unexpectedly just as the move was getting underway in late April. So, for obvious reasons, we placed the move on hold for a few weeks while we regrouped and got our bearings.
With so many details to handle and decisions to make with the move and Mom’s passing, two houses to take care of (Mom’s and mine, which are 400 miles apart) and making the move itself...which we’ve had to do in stages and is still ongoing...suffice it to say that life has been crazy-busy. Worked in there somewhere was the building of a new garage at our new house and a brief trip to Virginia in June to see Chelsea and Jessica, two of our beautiful granddaughters, graduate from high school. But, given the circumstances, I’m glad to have been busy to help keep my mind off my mother’s passing.
It was largely because of Mom that I became a crochet designer. When I was a little girl, I loved watching her crochet pretty things for our home. When I finally decided to give it a try myself at the ripe old age of 8, she gave me a hook (which I still have), a ball of bright pink yarn and taught me some basic crochet stitches. And so my fascination for all things fiber was born.
Mom lived for her family. She was always there to lend an ear, offer advice and support, to share the good times and the bad and to help us in whatever way she could. She is sorely missed, but we are doing our best to get on with things, choosing to celebrate her life rather than mourn her death, which is how she would want it. And so, life goes on.
Following is a poem which Mom and I have always liked. I offer it here in tribute to her. In many ways, it sums up my conviction (and hers) that life is eternal. I’ve seen several versions of this poem, and this may or may not be the original, which was written by A. L. Frink.
The Rose Beyond the Wall
A rose once grew where all could see,
Sheltered beside a garden wall,
And, as the days passed swiftly by,
It spread its branches, straight and tall.
One day, a beam of light shone through
A crevice that had opened wide ~
The rose bent gently toward its warmth,
Then passed beyond to the other side.
Now, you who deeply feel its loss,
Be comforted ~ the rose blooms there still ~
Its beauty even greater now,
Nurtured by God's own loving care.
Elaine Stegall
1928 - 2010
My Rose, My Mother
Love and hugs,
Brenda
