Always missing you Mom ❤️‍🩹 (325/365/2023)

by The Philosophical Fish

I was going to take a photo for today, but then I thought no, I want to remember Mom.

Today is her death-day and it’s always a difficult day. I usually try to find something to do that involves being around other people, people who make me smile and appreciate things. I was successful in that regard today, no fish were ready to spawn, but the people were good to connect with.

I like remembering her this way, smiling, enjoying the sunshine that she loved so much whenever she could find it, particularly in the cold days of winter. I know I inherited many of her traits and the older I get the more I realize how much she influenced who I am today, including the cat-gene (even though she was a dog person).

This photo would likely have been taken out at Summit Lake. The old yellow monoski ski-doo was used to pull heavy things out. Dad usually drove it, the rest of snowshoed or cross-country skied int eh track left behind the behemoth.

I still miss her Sunday morning calls. She was usually calling while we were still in bed, and I think she went out of her way to make it that way. She loved to laugh and ask if she’d woken us up and then seemed pleased with herself when she managed to do so.

Grief never really goes away, you just grow around it.

******

When I Am Gone

When I am gone, do not fear my memory.
Do not be afraid to speak my name or look through old photographs.
Do not be scared to play old videos so that you might hear my voice and see me laughing.
Do not be wary of visiting my favourite places or eating my favourite foods or singing along to my favourite songs.
I know it will hurt. Those memories will remind you that I am gone.
They will stab at you like a knife in an open, gaping wound. Raw, excruciating pain.
But after a while the knife will become less sharp, the wound will become less open and the pain will become less raw.
And those memories will remind you that I was here.
That I lived.
Do not reduce my life to my death.
Speak my name, hear my voice, sing my favourite songs and visit my favourite places.
Because that’s how I can stay alive a little.
Right here with you
🧡

Becky Hemsley 2022

This is my Mom, sometime in the late 1960’s or early 1970’s. I loved this old Ski-Doo. And I love this photo of Mom, so relaxed, enjoying the warmth of the sunshine on a winter day. I know I am supposed to take the photos for my 365, and on the given day, but I think I can be allowed a few exceptions under the circumstances. I can’t take any more photos of my Mom ever again, so I will take the luxury of posting some of my favourites as time goes by….or reposting them.

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