Ever since my mother passed away in 2000, Mother’s Day has become an uneventful, remembrance sort of an occasion. I have completely alienated myself from dim sum restaurants and shopping malls and taken refuge in a sanctuary like Mount Davidson in San Francisco. My mother had wardrobe of the size of a model: blouses, pants, dresses, jackets, and coats. When I went through her clothes and wrapped them up to give away, I found humps protruding from pockets of her coats. Tugged away carefully, sometimes in small zip-up bag or origami-like wrappers, are relics that she has kept since before I was born. Jade pendants. Gold earrings. My teeth. Wedding bracelets with carvings of dragon and phoenix. Coins with square holes in the middle. Little bric-a-bracs. Movie tickets from the 60s. Various receipts and invoices. The artifacts that chronologically chart my mother’s life fill up two boxes of the size of laundry basket. I realize she has been a very private person who cherishes moments in life and seeks to capture the beauty of the moment of her life. She chooses to keep these intimate, personal relics in very intimate places, in the pockets of her clothes, and these objects are meant to be uncovered by us.
Filed under: Memory Lane, Personal | Tagged: Memory, Memory Lane, Mother's Day, Mount Davidson, Personal, San Francisco
That’s beautiful, Matt
This was wonderful: I’m sorry your mother has passed, but what a precious discovery that must have been.
What a glorious way to pay tribute to your mom! I hope you slip something in your pocket for you and her to share.
It’s a wonderful thing to start a hope chest in honor of your mother… if you have not already. Thanks again for the post card from HK, that was really something special.
You’re so in touch with the depths of your feelings and emotions. Such a beautiful tribute to your mom!
That must have been so intriguing, finding those little treasures, one at a time…
I just read this post. I also find memories of my mother stuffed in tiny places. I used to hate that — thinking she was just a pack rat but time and this way of framing it makes me feel better.
Thanks
It is a strange feeling isn’t it, such a mix of emotions. A couple of years ago, my Father sent me some writing by my late mother about a few months we spent in Jordan (in the middle east) – not HK! I have very strong memories of the time there even though I was only 4 years old. To have found been given those few pages was such a gift – from the past and an insight from my late mother that I never expected.
Browsing your blog on a Sunday afternoon–I come across this old post of yours and it makes me weep for my mother. I didn’t even remember Mother’s Day this year, 2009. The early death of a mother is so sad for a son–at any age. I had such plans to enjoy my mother’s old age with her in my middle age. But, an early onset of Alzheimer’s ruined that plan. She was gone a long time before she died. It was a sad reminder to cherish the time we have with loved ones.
You understand. A beautiful thought for your Mother.