Wishing You All the Joys
My mother enjoyed getting cards more than anyone I have ever known, saving each card received, along with other letters and such that held some sort of sentimental value for her. I think it was really important to her to feel as if she would live on, that her story would live on after she was gone, and the things that were important to her helped to tell her story. For many years before her death, in fact, since my childhood, she would entrust me with special things from her youth or family history, with instructions to “keep this forever”; the hard times quilt she made when she was thirteen, the old oak bedroom set that were her parents first two pieces of furniture, the worry stone my grandmother carried with her always, worn down with use. Each item came with a story, woven from her vivid memories.
In later years, the cards and letters came to the forefront of Mom’s treasures. She even gave me a box to store the ones she wanted me to keep. I had forgotten about the box for years, but as I was cleaning out my closet, there it was, tucked in the back, hidden by long recital gowns. A time capsule….my heart leapt in my chest. I opened the box gingerly, wondering what treasures the box would reveal. Since Mom passed, it seems that I often come across signs or messages…at least that is what I want to believe they are. Sure enough, the box provided yet another gift for me, something I have no doubt my mother would send me if she could. The very top card on the large stack that filled the box, read simply, “Wishing you all the joys.” My heart smiled.