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September 23, 2009



*crying at my desk*


I was about to say "you can't throw away the memories", but then I realized that to some degree the memories are being triggered by the physical objects, like the frying pan.


That was beautiful. I am fighting back tears.
Also, just because you sometimes have a thankless job, thank you for all you do. The last time my son was hospitalized, the nurses were the ones that kept me grounded. They would come in and listen to me cry and ramble and I have never forgotten them.


Thank you...I'm fighting back tears. My dad is really ill right now and I just got off the phone with my sister. We were talking about all the things sisters talk about as a parent is ill and then I read your post - it helped me to get out some of the tears I needed to shed.


that was beautiful. im crying at work. at 9:30 in the morning.


What a beautiful post, Linda.


my mother suddenly died 4 months ago. i've saved her favorite shirts, not to wear, but to smell them.


Beautiful Linda. Add me to the list of those crying at work.


Linda, you have written the most beautiful post here. Thank you.


You are an excellent writer. I read a lot of personal stories online, and am admittedly easily moved. But I don't think I've ever had my eyesight so clouded by tears so quickly as when reading this post. Thanks for sharing and I wish you strength as you face these milestones that are just as powerful as anniversaries, holidays, etc.


Well written.


Tears, too. Very touching.


Beautiful, Linda.


Martin and I went through our attic a few months ago. It was stuffed to the gills and desperately needed to be revamped and reorganized.

Most of the stuff wasn't ours, but his parent's. We had told them they could just leave whatever they wanted in the attic, but that when we re-organized, we would be getting rid of things that had absolutely no use and no sentimental value, and they would have to come by and veto if they wanted to be sure that nothing important got tossed.

We ended up not needing to get rid of most of their old stuff, but we did find one absolutely ancient electric camping hotplate. When I saw it, I giggled, and showed it to Martin, saying, in effect, that this could certainly go - I would be outright AFRAID to use it - it looked like the dust and grime had become permanently embedded into the cable and electrical parts. Bine hates throwing away things that still might be needed - she's been known to keep raincoats from 1973 because they're "still good" - and I thought this must be one of the relics she's long since forgotten about.

Later, I was telling her what we'd sorted out, and couldn't help but poke the mildest of fun at the dinosaur hotplate. She laughed (because she is the sweetest MIL anyone could ever have), and got the strangest look on her face, regretful yet accepting, and said, "that was the hotplate my dad always cooked his sardines on. My mother wouldn't let him cook up that stenchy shit in her house, so he'd always go out to the garden; he loved eating those things so much, he kept that awful thing his whole life, so that he could still have his stinky sardines."

I put it back in our attic. At the time, I thought I was being a little silly. Now I know why I did it. Thanks, Linda.


Also crying....
I have a lot of momentos that my Grannie gave me, and I have a really hard time getting rid of them.
Beautifully written.


I've been there.

Thinking of you and wishing you the best

Just Me

I understand. I was very close to my grandmother and in my late teens was her primary caregiver for several years as she was dying of ovarian cancer.

I have her diaries and while I love reading them from time to time and seeing her perspective on life, and reading about myself as a child is neat. I even learned that as a newly married couple she and my grandfather used to camp in the small town I now live in, about 60 miles from where they lived.

But the thing I have of hers that makes me happiest? A manual can opener that she had throughout my entire childhood. It is probably 40 years old and I really should start using something else before it breaks, but it makes me so happy to make soup with the same thing she did. Goofy I know, but true.


I am so, so sorry.

Alicia Gibson

Oh, bless your heart!


Such a beautiful post, Linda. Thanks for sharing your experience. It makes it a little easier for me to think about several wonderful people who have died recently, and about how to help others who are grieving.


My mother passed away a year and a half ago and I feel exactly the same way you do. Thanks for writing this.


such a beautiful post. My girls are here with me and asking why I am crying and smiling at the same time. My grandmother and I were extremely close. She passed away a little more than 2 years ago. I have many of her things in my home that I will never part with. I do realize that she's not in the elephant or the teapots - but seeing them everyday gives me a chance to feel close to her each day.


This is so beautiful. I hope that my loved ones are blessed by nurses as loving as you when their time comes. My father-in-law is ill and this post has totally shifted my thinking on his eventual death. Thank you for that. I suspect that you've helped many people today think of this passage a little differently.


Beautiful post! What you do for a living is wonderful. You help so many people. Reading this reminded me of my great-grandmother's passing when I was 23 and my mother's step-mother passing last year. She was like another grandmother to me.


Oh that was absolutely breath-takingly beautiful. You are a wonderful person, and your mother is very proud of you. She will never, ever be gone.

I could only hope that I have the honour of passing in such a dignified and loving way.


You convey your thoughts and emotions so beautifully. I have tears in my eyes. Any patient or family who is lucky enough to meet you and have you care for them must feel so fortunate. Thank you for sharing all of this with us. I'm grateful for your honesty and openness.


Always amazed at your eloquence. You really should consider a novel. I would think your mother would be very proud of who you've become.


Maybe a memoir...not a novel.

Jenn in AK

Your mom is with you every time you use that new fry pan. She was with you and proud of you when you gave comfort to your dying patient's family. You're what a nurse should be. Thank you.


Weeping too.

And your mom may have given you that physical frypan, but more, she gave you the tradition of USING an electric frypan for the meals you make. She gave you the tradition of the meals too. So the new frypan is something she has given you too.

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