Great Aunt Marion
Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone! Here’s a peek at some of my crafting, as well as at a little bouquet for my sister’s arrival. Our redbuds are just beginning to bloom; these are the only branches I could reach to snip. I’m so excited for her visit with my little nephew. We’ve had more out-of-town visitors than usual the last few months, and we’re really enjoying it. Of course, it does mean that I’m fairly absent on my own blog, as well as yours! I do miss keeping up with all of you.
This little bouquet is also serving as a small memorial of sorts. Late last night we found out that my Great Aunt Marion passed away (sister of my grandma and Uncle Louis). She became rather reclusive in the last decade or so, but I have very fond memories of visiting her in the tiny North Dakota town where she lived. She had a large old house; mourning doves were always cooing in the cottonwoods and elms outside. We didn’t have mourning doves in western South Dakota, so their sound was novel and new to me. It is a sound I will forever associate with peaceful visits to my family. Like her siblings, she was a character. Also like her siblings, she didn’t talk much about things that happened in the family many years ago, leaving many of us in the dark about things we’d really like to know more about. I’m mourning her passing. I can still hear her sweet voice with its heavy northern accent, see her sitting on her porch with a cigarette. I’m also mourning the family history that was lost with her. Lives are such mysteries to me. For how complex and rich our lives are, so often what I know about my older relatives can be summarized into a single paragraph. This seems like such an injustice to who they must have been. I wish there was a better way to hold onto the essence of who our loved ones were. For all the photographs and memories we have, they still fall short of capturing who the person completely was. No doubt this is at least a small reason for the pain of death.