you'll always be my baby...

just saw a show where a mom's mom always sent her a pair of slippers for christmas for years but wouldn't come over for christmas. someone else's mom reminded her that the last christmas before she left, she gave a little 8 year old girl a pair of slippers that made her light up with delight; she loved them.  moms always think of their children as their children, no matter how old they get.

i bought amber a statue of a blonde ponytailed girl holding up a little blonde girl. it made me think of her. yesterday, i realized, i always think of amber as a blonde, like she was when she was a child. she's not blonde anymore and hasn't been for years. i see anything 101 dalmatians & think of amber.

in general, the girls are the same as they always were. only physically have they grown 'up'. i wonder how anna is, who she is, if she's the same or if life's taken her down a darker path. she's been running away from me seeking other families to hook up with. i realize that now. now that i look back on it all.

but now i'm crying hardly able to see the screen. my heart is broken from anna leaving [again] but this time not coming back. it's hard. but i did the best i could with what i had, i know that too.  i think of her every day and remember her in my prayers. i think of mom & dad every day but i know i won't see them until we're all called to heaven. the girls are grown, they have their own lives, who am i to wish we could all be together occasionally like we used to be... but i'm a mom and I think of them as children, smiling, laughing, running, growing children. i miss that but i love my life as a grammy, retired with my adoring loving husband who still has enough life in him to enjoy most days. i'm glad we have dinner every sunday. i'm glad i get phone calls for cooking questions, to share the joy, to be a listening ear, mom questions, pregnancy questions (even though you could call your sister), and to make sure i'm okay.

well, now the tears of heart break are combined with tears of joy. life is ...

mom was the bravest woman ever & dad was the most generous ever...

mom was born in Formosa before the chinese took over. it's now taiwan. she was a child with 2 younger brothers when her parents took them to japan to avoid learning & living chinese.  her dad was an accountant. her mom a seamstress. she made kimonos of course. she taught mom to sew and cook and be responsible. they wore sailor like uniforms to school and she got caught climbing trees (again. what a tomboy she claimed to be) and her mom said that she had to stop and start being a lady. she hated that.

she grew up, did well in school, got a job, left home, sent money home, partied with her friends, drinking and playing cards.

she met dad on a blind date. she didn't like him at first - too tall & skinny. his nickname was skinny. but he definitely wanted her!

so this little japanese girl hooks up with the navy guy. she had to go through classes and counseling (they both did) about mixed marriages and they had to make sure she wasn't a 'spy'. they got married, they had me, then 3months later she leaves her country, her family, & comes to the US.

she made it, and lots more but i can't go into it right now. waterworks. can't even go into my thoughts about dad. he was the most giving loving man. i loved him so much. waterworks.

still haven't gone through her stuff...

it's been over 2 years and i still haven't gone through her stuff and even my stuff. i know how she felt now. how stupid i sounded saying you can do it, just do one box a day. foolish me.  now i know.

i can be working fervently, putting stuff away, and i come up on a small pile of her stuff, her cute little handwriting, and it all comes crashing down again.

she's everywhere i look & in everything i do

i still think of her every day & in most things I do. coming home from the hospital (joe has acute pancreatitis), i had the fleeting thought that i wanted to stop by mom's before going home... but my home is mom's and i will go home and be alone and feeling her just beyond my fingertips, a hug and a smile just around the corner... of course, i write this remembering, with tears streaming down my face and i need to go blow my nose. when am i going to be ready to write of her? and dad? or anything?

who keeps telling us that journaling or blogging is good for the soul... is good therapy?

i really miss my parents, every day.