She often has a few things set aside for me when I visit these days. "Only if you really want them," reluctant to overwhelm me with things I may not want.
I swallow over the lump in my throat and try to ignore the ache in my heart. They are treasures - the things she has lovingly used over the sixty-six years of her marriage. "I want to know they are going to be loved and taken care of," she smiles. "I have to start getting rid of some of these things."
We share a love for the same sort of treasures - those things that carry memories of special times and much loved people. Years ago she gave me a bedspread my Grandmother, her mother, had crocheted. It is delicate and lovely, but even if it had somehow been not quite so I would love it. My Grandmother, the one who died when I was only two, held the thread in her hands and stitch after stitch wove her heart into the pattern.
Last week there were three beautiful table runners. My Aunt Fannie made all three. The Aunt who loved me so well but showed a rather crotchety face to world.
From whole cloth she cut a lovely pattern and then stitched around the edges. The lace she crocheted was the final touch. She did beautiful work. I hold it in my hands and remember her smile and the way she laughed when she told me the stories of my childhood.
These treasures are a daily reminder to me of how simple it is to leave a tangible gift of love to those we cherish. Of course, it isn't really the thing itself. It is knowing the love that prompted the making. When we stitch a quilt, plant a rose bush, paint a picture, write words from the heart - express our love in a myriad of ways - we are leaving a reminder of how deeply we loved.
Blessings,
Linda
