my family's seen some pretty ugly things in the past few months. my mother doesn't talk about them with her friends. she's often irritated with me that i talk to mine about what troubles me.
the difference is, she can lean upon her husband. and i feel guilty leaning on either one of them. so i lean on yall or a close friend.
when my older brother passed away, she told a very finite number of people. most of those who came to the service here, they were friends of his. we told his friends. his. and if my parents were friends with their parents, we told them. one of her longtime friends? they ceased to be friends because the friend was hurt that she'd not been one of the informed. i still don't get that. they'd been friends for DECADES. good friends. and this perceived slight ruined that for the friend. and it hurt my mother, deeply i think because she truly loved having known this woman.
my mother doesn't talk. not about stuff like this. it's death. her firstborn. a child she waited and waited and prayed to have. and her heart... i can understand how and why, for her, this loss, this particular garment would be tucked away at the back of the highest basket where no one can reach it.
when he passed, while we were in colorado putting him in the ground... when one of our neighbors discovered this, she came to our house and walked back and forth, back and forth before it, praying. for my family. for my mother.
in the years since, i've become quite fond of this woman. i've always admired her.
a few months ago, i learned that this neighbor, she'd developed stage four cancer in her brain.
today i learned the chemo didn't work. that we will lose her. and my heart...
i don't even know if you can see these, but, i found some posies for you. i seem to recall your saying you loved these:
my mom used to have a big patch of these in her backyard. they're gone now, otherwise i would've brought you a bunch.