I recently found my mother’s old address book. Nearly every page was filled with her distinct loopy writing; loopy as in creative and unique. It was not only easy to read, but it spoke of her particular genius and unique spirit. No one else’s writing has moved me like hers.
When she was in Hospice and in her own bedroom, she and my father told me that they wanted to give me her car; her beloved white Kia Rondo. While I was thrilled to have it, it made me sad to see that her beautiful and unique writing had become nearly illegible.
When she died, I wept not only for the loss of her, but also of that lovely loopy hand writing. I made sure that her footstone in the cemetery was carved with her name in its signature writing.
When we lose one of our dear ones, it isn’t just the loss of the person we mourn; it is also all those sweet and lovely things that defined them.
When the time came that she could no longer write well, I mourned the loss of her writing as much as I mourned for her. So many lovely little things get left by the wayside when one of our loved ones are dying. But these are the things we remember when our loved one leaves this earth.
Her old address book, filled with that lovely loopy writing, is just just another part of my mom that I won’t forget. I was going through yet another box of stuff i had promised myself I’d get back to after the holidays. In it were some letters Mom wrote to her brother, Raymond, when she was married to my biological father. In it, she referred to me as “Baby Chick.” I would never have known this sweet fact if it wasn’t for her unique handwriting.
This is a bittersweet gift; these letters from such a long time ago. Mom and I never talked much about those years, but reading her letters filled in the blanks for me. I am pretty sure that Mom had a hand in it; where she is now is full of many little miracles.