In Memory Of ... Quilt

A few weeks ago, a tweet caught my eye. The tweeter is a thoughtful person, considerate in her blogging, and kind in her comments. I was intrigued by the title 'In Memory Of ...' Quilt. Now, I am not a quilter. I can barely sew. But, as I read Julie's story and the inspiration for her memorial project, I had an idea of how I could participate, in memory of my mother, who died too young, almost three years ago.

This is the story of my square.

When I turned 16, I had reached a rite of passage for girls in the family. The right to go down to Chinatown and choose an ornate, carved wooden kist. This kist would be with me for ever, my own precious memory box. It was Granny's tradition. Each of her three daughters had received a kist on their 16th birthday, and in turn each of her three female grand children received the precious gift.

Also on my 16th birthday, my mother gave me a down comforter, covered in moth-eaten pink satin. It had belonged to my paternal grandmother. Mom and I went to the fabric shop to choose new material to re-cover it. I chose a midnight blue velvet, and I still love the feel of it. Mom did a fine job, even covering the buttons. The blue velvet remains as vibrant as ever. 

Mom was very thrifty, and gave me the left over fabric. 'Put it in the kist', she said. 'You never know when you might need it'. I can still hear her voice.

So I did put it into the kist, and last week, Julie's project sparked a memory. I unpacked the kist, and there it was. Perfect as the day it went in. Blue velvet for my quilt square.

Mom loved beads. She was a colourful woman, and always co-ordinated her beads with her clothes. On the day of her funeral, Mom's sister took most of the beads, leaving me with just a few of my favourites. They sit in Mom's little bead box, unworn, but admired most days.

Julie, thank you for the opportunity to get creative in memory of my mother, Vivienne; she will always be in my heart.

I look forward to seeing the quilt of love and memories. Julie and I are cross-posting today - we hope you will join in the memorial quilt project.

Photography by Lesley Beeton

Garden of Remembrance

Linking up with One Community, a monthly photo project in which participants photograph their lives and communities with a theme in mind. The theme varies by month. The goal is to both showcase similarities and differences in our communities worldwide – and bring us all closer together in understanding through art.  This month's words of inspiration are :

Five, Mother, Recipe, and Remember.

Hosted by Sarah at Beauty School Dropout

My Mother loved to garden. Her love for gardening was second only to her love of words. She could not cook.

This is my tribute to Mom. Gone, but never forgotten.

Beautiful hellebores, which have self-seeded in my garden.
Five delicate petals nodding gently in the spring breeze.

A favourite photo of Mom, a wearer of hats.

A heart to remember.
A window on the garden my Mother never got to see.

My Mother's best recipe.

A little work

A little play.

A lot of love -

And that's a day.

Photography by Lesley Beeton

It's my birthday, and I'll cry if I want to

I miss my Mother most on my birthday. It just doesn't seem right to celebrate without her. And yet those around me seem to think it's the day I most want to celebrate, and so I'm surrounded by cards, and gifts and well wishers. This year was different, however. I invited some friends for a meal out the week before my birthday, so that I could hide away on the actual day. And it worked, mostly. Only Dad caught me in the afternoon, a quick cup of tea and a slice of cake. That was nice. 

The best part of the day? Mr B bringing home an Indian meal take-away, and snuggling on the sofa. The next day, things returned to normal. 

All day long, Mom's little poem to me on my 8th birthday, went round and round in my head:

'To Lesley Dawn, my first born,

Fills me with love every morn.

Hope she'll be happy as a bee -

Til the day she goes from me.'

I have decreed that there will be no more birthday celebrations until I turn 50, when I will surely be grown-up enough to deal with it.

Always on my mind

I'm not used to people telling me things I didn't know about my Mother. In the weeks leading up to her death from lung cancer, we talked a lot. She told me many personal things, and we shared the most intimate personal care as she was unable to 'do' for herself. She remembered things from her childhood, and from my childhood. She told me her fears. She and Dad were both afraid; of Mom dying, of Dad being left alone, of all the sorrow. We didn't talk about the future, so I don't really know what she would make of how things are at the moment. I don't want to go into too much detail, but family matters are strained, with hurt feelings all round. I guess this is still part of the grieving process for our family.

We  recently celebrated an important birthday. If Mom had been alive, it would have been a big party, perhaps more than one party, and a wonderful holiday with all the family, much like we did in the year when they both turned sixty.

In the end, it was a small Sunday lunch, with friends old and new, which really made Dad's day and made him smile for the first time in three years. Some special touches marked the day for me. A kind comment, a happy tear, a shared memory.

Things my mother never taught me

My mother was a fine woman. She was strong and jolly and independent. She was not a stay at home mom. She worked full time and I went to pre-school when I was just two years old. I loved it, I could do my letters and numbers before I was four. And consequently, the time for learning at my mother's side was gone long before either of us ever thought about it. In fact, we only talked about when I was well into my 30s and discussing stay at home moms versus career women. My mom never quite understood my reasons for not having children, I don't suppose I fully do either. When I was younger, it was because babies and research didn't mix, then it was because my husband works such long hours that I didn't want to be a 'single mum' bringing up babies on my own and being resentful. Now, life is a lot less complicated, with two lovely Boxer dogs and a widower Dad to look after.

I wish Mom had stayed at home with us. We would have learnt about things like baking and gardening, played word games, and gone to tennis parties. Oh, we did all those things, but not with Mom. We always had loads of friends, cousins and grand-parents on hand. In fact, the joke was that Mom never learned to cook because Granny never taught her - but she taught me. Granny taught me in the old-fashioned ways, a little of this, a pinch of that, stir it up with passion, and it will taste good. Nothing with any great finesse, but food from the soul.

Photo credit

Mom and I did discover a couple of things in common - our love for words and our love for gardening. Funny that, because Mom always considered herself to be far superior to me in both subjects. And she probably was, but I'm catching up. Mom would have loved to have blogged about her garden. I started my blog when Mom was ill and she never saw the tribute it has become. 

It's good to have a tribute to a loved one. It helps to remember the good times, and it's an evolving place to express your feelings. People who are interested will come to your blog. 

Oh, and one more thing - Mom had a clear sense right and wrong. Don't make promises you can't keep, do keep appointments, and always write a thank you note. On second thoughts, perhaps Mom taught me all the important things in life.

I've submitted this post for 'Celebrating Womanhood. Because Women Are Amazing'.

Celebrating Womanhood

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Monday mood board #5

My mood board theme for today is full of colour. It reflects the environment around me this week. And it also reflects my mood. I am by nature a colourful person. I can wear colours together that might otherwise clash, but I can get away with it. Today, for example, I am wearing turquoise and fuschia - mind you, I am just at home with the dogs and not doing anything posh!

Colourful, mixed photo, watercolour and pastel collage,
March 2012, Lesley Beeton

My Mother was a very colourful person too. But she was much more formal in her approach to colour, she was what you might call colour co-ordinated. Everything had to match. It was she who told me that I had to wear blue eye shadow because I have blue eyes! She had shoes in every colour, to match every outfit in her wardrobe. It took me days to sort it all out after she died. Many of her shoes were still in their original boxes, neatly labeled as to which outfit they went with. I felt sad giving her things away. I do hope they found good homes, with people who took as much pride in their appearance as my Mother did.

Now don't judge me too harshly. My Mom never wore black - ever. And she certainly didn't want mourners wearing black to her funeral. I wore red. Mom would have approved. 

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