Today marks such a sad anniversary for me. It has been one year since my mother passed away. She was young (only 61) and vibrant and beautiful. She died after a courageous two year long battle with Pancreatic Cancer.
Before she passed away, I made a bag for her out of some of my handwoven fabric. She carried it everywhere. Now that bag is back with me and hangs next to my loom.
There really are no words to sum up the pain and sadness that my family has felt over the last year. There are no words to express what it was like to watch her pass away and then have to go tell your kids that Grandma is gone. I feel like that is what I've been trying to do for the last year; find the words. It turns out, I've had them all along.
In addition to weaving and fiber arts, my other passion is genealogy or family history. I've been working at it for 20 years now. Back in the late 90's, someone sent me a quote by Marcus Tullius Cicero........
"To be ignorant of what occurred before you were born is to remain always a child. For what is the worth of human life, unless it is woven into the life of our ancestors by the records of history?"
I never really thought about the word "woven" in that quote before. Weaving can be literal. Threads that run one way and other threads that pass over and under and around them. Weaving can also be figurative. Our lives are so intertwined with others that they are woven together.
When one thread ends, a new thread begins, and when done right, blends seamlessly with the others. The new thread starts where the other ended.
We are forever woven together, my mother and I. I miss you Momma. I miss you so much.
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