Sunday, May 27, 2012

PILFERED LACE



The enormity of what I have just done has hit me like a wrecking ball into and unsuspecting wall of brick.

I have pilfered my Mum's hand crocheted lace.

Well, not even her lace, but my grandmother's lace.
And since my Mum will be 101 on this June 5th well, then that's some pretty old lace.

I have coveted this box of lace for ages.  Ever since my Mum started handing it out to me, piece by piece, like special candy treats.  She's been doing it forever.  Since the time I first moved to my own apartment.
Every now and again.....she'd gift me with a piece of  crochet lace from the box.
Endless excitement on a day like that when I possessed another piece to display!
(I was, perhaps, the only 20 year old with furniture sporting antimacassars!
  You gotta admire a good antimacassar!)

The ritual brought to me a love of dear, old things, painstakingly crafted by a woman I never met.
Grandma passed before I was born.
But, still, I have always had a picture in my mind of that faceless lady bent over her work of an evening.

And then one day, Mum stopped.  Stopped gifting the lace.
She said to me one day:  "Now you have to wait until I'm gone."

And of course, I promised.

And now, now I have broken my promise and pilfered that lace.

I hadn't meant to.  But, one thing leading to another and Mum, nearing 101, just isn't able to stay in her home any longer.   Nor my daughter's either.  And the goddess knows my poor daughter gave it her all.
But, it wasn't meant to be.

 Another promise not kept.

I wish I could bring her these lovely pieces and pretty up her room.
But, Mum's not the woman now to appreciate the lovely and would be all the sadder (and madder)
 that I had touched her things.  The upset would never be equal to the beauty.
She would find, now, no comfort in this lace.

I laugh out loud when I think of a character on a  favorite television show, Sheldon Cooper of Big Bang Theory-  "A home?  We'd never put Meemaw in a home!"

You say that.

  But circumstance is a harsh mistress and Mum now
 resides in a care facility and her home to be scattered to the four winds in hopes that her long loved belongings will be honored by the people who take them.

That's one promise I can keep.

For more about Mum's things visit my SEA GYPSY blog and the *Appel* Pie Adventure!

6 comments:

Marigold said...

First of all, it is beautiful. Secondly, circumstance is indeed a harsh mistress. Still you know of anyone, your mum would want you to have those things. Somehow I suppose we just have to take things as they come and do the best we can. Your intentions are full of love and the best for your mum. The Universe understands this. I am reminded of the words of the Ghost of Christmas Present to Scrooge:: "There is never enough time to do or say all the things that we would wish. The thing is to try to do as much as you can in the time that you have. Remember Scrooge, time is short, and suddenly, you're not here any more."

the wild magnolia said...

This is a lovely, honest, sharing. Thank you for sharing such beauty, and truth of circumstance.

Patty Woodland said...

You will love that lace and pass it on as your mother would want.
You are caring for your mother by seeing that she gets the care she needs. Never easy, always necessary.

edenhills said...

I can only hope I am able to do as well for my mother. Truly a heartfelt and touching post. Blessings with you dear.

Candy C. said...

{{HUGS}} to your mom, to you and to your daughter!! We can only do what we think is best for the ones we love and it sounds like that is what you are doing.

Spinners End Farm said...

How wonderful that you have been able to share so much time with your mother, and your daughter her grandmother! Helping her to get the care that you are no longer able to give her is a gift, not a punishment. I'm sure she would not want you or your daughter to suffer. As for the lace...how lovely! I'm sure it will be loved and used well; exactly what the maker intended (whom herself must have been a goddess to create such lovely work).