Some change is about holding on to who we are
Visiting with my in-laws over the holidays is always a little like living on the edge. It’s tough to know who will cave to the holiday stress at any moment in time. Of course, given that they are in their 80s, there are also the omnipresent health issues to be wrestled with―and adapted to. And there are the usual rituals.
My mother-in-law was looking for something in her closet and it became a trip down memory lane.
She took down a carefully-wrapped package of linens and gently unwrapped about a dozen pillow cases. As she did she said, “This one I bought with my sister”. She touched the others tenderly, admiring the embroidery. “See this one? One dollar each. Whatever my sister bought, I bought.”
Her sister passed away 19 years ago.
I suddenly realized that this was not about the pillow cases. This was about remembering a day with her sister―how happy they were that day.
About remembering who she was with her sister. About who she is.
We put the pillow cases away carefully in the closet so she could take them down and remember again another day.
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