The Gift

Sunday is ‘Mom Day’.  I am off every second Sunday and every Sunday  that I am off, I pick Mom up and we do the Safeway /Casino run.  First we get her groceries, and then we head to our local casino for an hour of  play time.    Mom, with  her physical limitations and her failing eye sight, doesn’t get out much these days,  so these outings are often  anticipated.

Last Sunday, as she came out of her apartment block and headed towards my car, I noticed a large plastic bag balancing on the seat of her walker as she pushed it towards me.

“Here,” she said, “These are for you.   I was going to throw them out but I thought you might like them”.

I took the bag from Mom’s hands and glanced inside. Three large scrape like books with ragged torn edges peeked back at me.

“Are you kidding me!!!  Mom, you were going to throw these out??”

“Well, I can’t see them anymore.  If you want them, you can have them.”

“Yes Mom, I want them!  Thanks”.

I closed them back into the bag and tucked them in a safe place in the back of the car.

I had seen these books before.. but not for some time.  And when I did last glance at  them I probably didn’t appreciate them as I knew I would now.

The first thing I did on getting home was bring out the bag  of books and  carefully place them  on to the kitchen  table.   Three books.  One an old Hilroy style scrape book, the second a smaller version with the words Scrape Book on the front, and the third an aged leather binder.  All of them stuffed to overflowing with ragged edged pages.

I opened the largest of the three and immediately felt a stillness. On the inside of the cover page was a large photo of Grandpa, Grandma, my mom (about 18) and her sisters and brother. The right side of the page displayed a yellowed news clipping and a wedding invitation dated 1950 .. still crisp, still white.

I felt my breath catch as I leaned inward to read the names.

Eileen Helma  to Mr. Frederick Devlin … my mom and dad!

A wave of emotion flooded me, warming me from the inside out and quieting my breath.

Excitement, sadness, longing, I felt them all as  I slowly turned the page to find another very yellowed but still legible newspaper clipping describing in great detail the wedding of Mr. Frederick Devlin to Eileen Helma Richter.

Had I seen these before?  If so.. for the life of me, I did not remember when. I didn’t even know my mom had a middle name, let alone that it was Helma.

We think we know our parents.  How little we really know.

More page turning, more wonders. Aged clippings of the grandparents that I never really knew… their obituaries holding  much in the way of previously wondered at  information.

My grandfather (Mom’s dad) was born in Austria and immigrated to Canada in  1910.  I had often wondered but had never asked .. now here it was, at my fingertips. My grandmother was  originally from The USSR. She and grandpa met in Canada and married in 1912.

I sat there, alone in my kitchen, awestruck with visions of past generations suddenly clear.

The second book held mostly old photos, mostly of my mom and her times, some of my dad and their early married life. I marveled at them and at the young attractive women who looked back at me.

My mom before she was my mom.

Amidst all the emotion,  I suddenly felt overwhelmed.  Such a treasure I had unexpectedly been given.    Feeling unsure as to what exactly  to do… I only knew I had to do something.

Funny how life works.. how sometimes  things simply fall into place.  Recently I have been feeling a winter restlessness and pondering on a project.  I am thinking now that one may have just fallen into my lap.

And Mom…  thank you for this gift.  I so needed this, for so many reasons.  The most important one being that it comes at a time in our relationship when our roles have so completely reversed.   I need to  know and I need to  remember.

I need a reminder of who I know still lives in the heart of the now sometimes forgetful and increasingly fragile women who was and is my mom.  And in the remembering, be better able to embrace the woman who is  here today.

Some gifts are truly priceless.  This, I think, may be one of them.