In the Studio

We all have lost a loved one or we all will some day, and Memorial Day is dedicated to the remembrance of those who have passed. It has been many years since I lost my grandmother – I was only 9 – yet she had a huge impact on my as yet short life. She always encouraged me to just try it, whatever it was. She was trying to teach me to make lefse  (the cooking stuff never did stick) and I would go to the church quilting bee with her and help tie the quilts. My grandfather passed away when I was in college and I still have some of the letters he wrote to me because email was not yet around and it was too expensive for a lot of phone calls. I remember with fondness and exasperation how we used to watch the Packer games together. Every time I plant a tomato, and most of the time when I just slice one up, I think of Gramps’ garden of tomato plants surrounded by marigolds.

When my father passed away in 1999, that was one of the hardest losses yet. Not because we had been so close, but because we hadn’t. We had just started getting to know each other, and it was to worst thing in the world to know that time was running out. But when I hit my thumb with a hammer or a 2×4, I think of my dad. Come to think of it, every time I use my saw, I see him trimming branches up on a ladder and then he wasn’t because he cut the saw cord – the yellow tape now holding it together reminds me every time. Yes, some things that you wish were not genetic, really, truly are.

While life marches on, Memorial Day helps remind us that we come from someone, not just somewhere. And I am very grateful to have my memories.

And yes, I still occasionally cry when I think of how short of a time we had together.