Present Via Her Crafting

Some of you asked about the lack of masks for most people at the Christmas Parade. I wondered about what would be the protocol before going, but rightly or wrongly, I figured that the cold would really inhibit the transmission of water droplets. And . . . this is a big one . . . there was not a single active case in our slice of the health unit region.

Now, back to the tree party. No, I am not going rehash the whole thing, but I do want to declare that my dearly departed mother was remembered and did play her usual part in the festivities. (Have you ever heard of festivity being used in the singular?)

Unexpectedly, Shauna produced my mother's little sewing basket which she had covered with smocking. I don't know where she got the cigarette case because no one in our family has ever smoked, but it contained some of her buttons. I have a vague memory of playing with a larger button collection than this when I was quite a wee tyke. 

I purposefully included the afghan, which is a Sue creation. It is one of three candy cane afghans that Sue has crocheted. I thought the juxtaposition of my mother's crafty stuff and Sue's afghan was appropriate.

Then, near the end of the decorating of the tree, out came Mom's smocked Christmas balls.

If I am counting correctly she smocked 17 balls over 17 years. We have another set, for she would do two similar ones every year, one for each of her two granddaughters. 

We all want to be remembered by our children and grandchildren, and I am sure she had this in mind when she did the work. I'd say that her work has been effective.

I don't know if it is obvious, but I did have a bit of a moment looking at and touching them again. My smile wasn't very smiley when Sue prompted me in the second photo. Shauna calls them The Feels.

We're not quite done with my mother's lingering presence at the party, for the last touch was putting the skirt at the bottom of the tree, which Mom made, possibly ~1990.

Some say that in one way of looking at life and death, there can be said to be three deaths. The first is when your heart stops beating. The second is when they put you in the ground. The third occurs when your name is spoken for the last time. Even though Mary has been gone for almost 19 years, she is still around us and is remembered, and we trust that this will continue for a few decades yet – every year when Christmas rolls around, and probably at other times too.