My mother loved buttons. No, I mean she really loved buttons, collecting thousands of them, keeping them in jars and her favorite ones in aluminum pie pans to place on her walker to ‘play with’. When I raced to her apartment at The Home for Wayward Seniors on the day of her final fall that led to her death a month later, she lay in a sea of buttons- they had flown everywhere when the walker went over with her. I will never forget the sight, and the gut knowledge that this was not ‘just another fall’. I felt incredible tenderness and love for her as we waited for the medics to come, trying to make her comfortable, and I cleaned up all of the buttons to clear the way for the medics and the stretcher
After Mom died, I worked my tail off packing up, giving away, and cleaning out her apartment. All of the furnicture was out, and every corner was vacuumed and scrubbed. My sister came to help me finish up, and after the memorial service we went to give the place one more check my sister was in the kitchen cleaning, and I went into Mom’s bedroom where she fell. Right at that spot where nothing had been before was a single white button. Chills went over me and I called to my sister. We both cried, knowing this had been a hello from Heaven. I keep the button pinned in my clarinet case now.
Yesterday was a rough re-entry back to school after a wonderful holiday. I had been missing Mom, a flood of emotions brought on by Christmas decorating, Mom’s favorite time of year. As I opened the back door to my car I leaned in to pick up my clarinet case and jerked back when I saw this:
No one had been in my car, I hadn’t worn any button-downs or carried any clothes in the car, and it had recently been vacuumed out, too. There was no rhyme nor reason for it to be there- except that there was. It was another one of those little smiles from Heaven that come just when you need them most. I had the most wonderful first day back at school after that, feeling that I was wrapped in love. What a wonderful gift I had been given.
Thank you, Momma.