Monday, August 27, 2007

 

The Wonderful Thing About Tiggers...

images


Naturally, my trip to New Hampshire falls on the week the Éclair chooses to make a quantum leap in her cognitive development. This week, she's discovered boredom and screams when large humans do not stop what they're doing and report to her immediately for Monkey Face duty.

"Don't we have anything she can play with?" I ask my wife, fully aware that we didn't bring so much as a teddy bear with us. My parents kept a large basket full of toys in anticipation of their grandchildren visiting (although the number of times we actually brought the kids up to New Hampshire was around 5, I realize with a guilty start), but what's here, if memory serves, is all for older kids.

It is therefore with more relief than surprise that I open the lid to the basket and find, sitting at the very top, a brand-new stuffed animal in the likeness of Tigger. I grab him and hear a little voice mechanism whir to life. "You're a strong little bastard, aren'tcha?" he says, or words to that effect. I ask BB about it, but he has no idea where it came from.

So I call dibs and waggle Tigger in front of the Éclair. It's like she's found a long-lost brother. She spends the rest of the visit chewing on one of his ears and occasionally squeezing him hard enough that he utters some dopey exclamation, such as "You're hugarrific!" or "Hoo-hoo-hAggh, I can't breathe!"

It is just one of many secret legacies we discover as we began the impossible task of inventorying and cleaning my parents' house. We spend a full day in their bedroom, sorting my parents' clothes for Goodwill and other destinations, deciding who gets--or who would want--any of my Dad's trademark suspenders, marveling at the number of slips my mother felt compelled to keep in her closet (she owned more than 20!).

In my mom's closet, we also find two bags of children's clothing. All new, all several sizes to big for my own children. Who were these intended for?

And then at the bottom we see the baby clothes--all for 6- and 8- month-olds, all in Thanksgiving and holiday colors and motifs--and it dawns on us that in fact these clothes ARE intended for my kids, for when they got a little bigger. Clothes my parents never got around to giving them. All of a sudden, I can't breathe either.

It's all so fucking pathetic that it's almost funny, in a hysterical kind of way...

Labels:


Comments:
My mother could never pass up a good sale on children's clothing. If it wasn't for a family member, she would find someone that could use it.

After my mother died, a moment that stole my breath away was putting up the christmas decorations. That was mother's job. It wasn't just her that died. Traditions died too because it's too painful without her. The 2nd year without her, we didn't put up any christmas decorations.

Hang in there. The day will come when you can remember them fondly without it feeling like Jack the Ripper is stabbing you in the chest.
 
So good to hear from you, though I can't imagine what you're going through--how the pain seems to bubble up at the most unexpected of turns. Since I have no words of wisdom to share, I'll just say "I'm sorry. So, so damn sorry."
 
Urgh. This post made me realize just how hard this trip must have been for you. Hope everything worked out well there.
 
Oh MM. I hurt for and with you on this trip. I am thankful that you have HLS and Eclair out there with you.

Your parents, still, were, are, always...wonderful people, wonderful grandparents.

I am just so damn sorry.
 
You made me cry.
Again.
 
G'day from Australia,

Suldog told me about your blog, nominating one of your posts for Post of the Day.

I am a novelist and career journalist (magazines and newspapers) and a blogger.

Been enjoying your site. Man, you go back a long way. Great stuff.

Cheers

David
 
My heart and thoughts are with you this week.

It's going to be a roller coaster ride for you all.
 
Hang in there, man. Your parents love for you will continue to show up in your life for years to come. Love and life are like that. That it touches your soul is a sure sign that you are alive and that love is a vibrant force in you. It won't always hurt so much. But, I am so very sorry for the sorrow that you have now.
 
I'm glad that hls & the eclair (with her newfound manipulation skills) were able to go with you on this trip..
 
Oh man...What a tough week you had...

This reminds me of when my grandmother died (she lived with us and passed on Thanksgiving morning). When that Christmas came around, we had found a ton of presents in her closet that she had purchased and wrapped months before. Once we finished the game of "Who do you think she wanted to give this ugly vase to?" and "Dad, I think these handkerchiefs are for you, because she only gets them for you EVERY YEAR," We all had the biggest laugh/cry yet.

It was like she had left a part of herself there in these gifts, wrapped with her signature packing tape that required at serious kitchen knife to cut through. And for once, we didn't have to pretend we liked any of them like we usually had to on Christmas. It's one of my brother's and my favorite memories of that whole sad time.
 
oh MM...

the baby clothes...really got me.Eclair must know your mother dressed her as a princess..before they ever met. This should be her memory of her....PS your word verification word for this post is:

beheal. be healed. I think that one is for you.I wanted to pass it on to you.
 
It's quite a loving legacy, MM. Your kids will still be getting presents from your Mom and Dad. It's certainly heartbreaking to discover the treasure, but it will be nice doling it out, eh?

Prayers, as usual.
 
I'm sorry you have to deal with this. I can't imagine.

Someday you will be able to think of them and just smile but for now...

Take care,
 
I don't know what to say. I can't even imagine what you must be feeling... I don't want to imagine it.

I'm so very sorry, MM.
 
Post a Comment



<< Home

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?

Blogarama - The Blog Directory Listed on BlogShares