I am going to try and talk the partner into making a guest post here, but I am unsure how that will go-the partner's resistance to blogging is strong...but knowing how addictive it is, I almost am afraid that it would be somewhat like offering someone their first ciggy...not a good idea. I will have to wait and see how that one turns out.

I had a very productive day today. Sat in front of the computer for a great part of it and click, click, clicked around the internet. I found a story on New Kid on the Hallway's blog that reminded me of something that happened to my mother last year. I thought I would share it, just to let you know that sometimes stories do have happy endings.

*Clears throat*

It was a hard year, last year. While it would take too long to sketch out exactly everything that happened, I can tell you that the year involved sudden deaths, too many illnesses, and a couple of operations. For my mother, who had suffered the most because of all of these different things, insult was added to injury when she realized that she was missing all of her jewelry. Not that there were any expensive pieces of jewelry in her collection, but there were very special things that belonged to her mother, my father's mother, and a couple of other random things that had been passed down from generation to generation.

As she had just finished cleaning out the basement, she was convinced that the tin she had put the jewelry in was either thrown out, or placed in a box that she had donated to a local clothing drop-off place. Either scenario was horrible, so to make a long story short, she berated herself for days and days. As time passed she began to accept that this had happened, but was always terrified that her father-in-law would ask where X piece of jewelry was. My father's parents did not accept her into the family, at all, so for her to have lost/thrown away something that belonged to her mother-in-law would be unforgivable.

Before one of the last times that I went home before I moved, my mother called myself and siblings to announce that she had something that she needed to talk to us about. We were afraid for the worst (operation did not work, etc.) but hoped for the best (lottery?) It just so happened that this 'discussion' was going to happen the day before the grandfather's birthday.

I spent a week in mild panic, afraid of what she had to tell us. She finally did clarify (over the phone) that she was okay (and so was dad), but she would reveal no further details. On the day of the discussion the partner and I drove the two hours to my parent's house, grabbed the bags of dirty laundry from the trunk of the car (we have no shame) and went inside. The other two siblings were inside with their partners, one of whom thinks I am some dirty, damn, feminist and would scoff at me using the word partner instead of husband. We get along really well. The other partner, uhm, we will keep quiet on that one...

Anyway, my father decided to go down to the basement and bring up some extra chairs to sit on, because we were running out of room to sit down, and were eventually expecting more house guests. After he put down the chair he turned slowly around. I didn't notice at first, but there were tears in his eyes that eventually managed to spill over. I figured it out right away, and I too started to feel tears. (the one thing that I have picked up from my father is the amazing ability to cry at things...it doesn't take much)

Eventually my younger sister noticed that something was up, as my father, who is increasingly showing visible signs of his age and the stress of the previous year, was beaming from behind his tears in a way that we have not seen for a long time.

Clutched behind his back, as he called my mother's name, was the bag of jewelry (not the tin, as she had thought). For some reason it had been put underneath the cushion of the chair, and lay there, forgotten.

My grandfather was drunk by this point, having arrived at least a whole half hour prior to this event, so he didn't really have all that much to say, except "holy smoked and dying catfish," in a thick Scandinavian accent. I don't think he really understood how much self-disgust losing the jewelry caused my mother.


Anyway, here's hoping that New Kid on the Hallway has similar luck finding her missing memories.