My Deceased Mother's Birthday

Do birthdays count after someone has died? I suppose birthdays are intended to mark the years while one is alive, but for the survivors, it seems like birthdays don't stop having very intense and deeply personal meaning.

Today is/was my mother's birthday, the first one since her suicide in December. I was going to try to just go on like any other day, but I found I couldn't really do that. So I decided to embrace my thoughts and let my feelings just flow.

What I feel... is an intense sadness my highly creative mother will never again create anything with her hands.

Some of my earliest memories were about the things she made for me, for our family, and for herself. She was not affectionate, nor was she particulary kind or patient at times, but she showed her love with her masterpieces. In her later years, when she became somewhat distant or estranged from her family, she crocheted blankets and donated them to charity.


Here are some of the beautiful things I remember:








The "Bug Quilt". She traditionally used scraps from old clothes in her patchwork quilts, or remnants from sewing projects.
















My Christmas dress at age 4. My mom made a Christmas dress for me and my sisters most years until we reached adolescence. We loved gingham check.












This was her wall hanging called "Sisters". She grew up in a household of 3 sisters, and she had 3 daughters herself. This was her showpiece when she was selling her quilted items at craft shows. Her company name was Softwear by Sylvia.










My mother sold these puppy dog quilts at the craft fairs. The Scotty dogs are machine appliqued onto white fabric and it is hand tufted. I still have some of the pieces from one of these quilts. It was too tattered to keep whole so I cut out and saved some of the more memorable fabrics, and one of the puppies in each pose.











If I recall correctly, my mother crocheted this scarf for herself using a very fine hook. She hand-dyed it with coffee or tea.










I remember my mother tatting lace to keep her hands busy, especially after she quit smoking. A few years ago she started tatting again after a long absence, and this was one sample piece. I always meant to sew it onto something, but I didn't have anything that looked delicate enough.










My mother sewed me a beautiful flapper dress. I wore it to death, and in this picture I am about to enter in a contest to win a trip to New Orleans. I didn't win, and my mother was so disappointed that I didn't strut better or ham it up on the makeshift runway. But I was the first entrant, and I didn't think to do that until the other women went up.













My wedding dress. My mother also sewed a matching outfit for my daughter, 3 bridesmaids' dresses, and her own dress. She also cut my hair, constructed my bouquet, printed the invitations, and baked/decorated my cake (I helped with that part).













This sweater was one of the last things she made for me. She used a lot of bright of bright colours because she knew how much I loved them, and arranged the rows randomly, as I don't like fixed patterns. In my mind, the pale green at the top will always be "Smokey's Eyes Green", as she named the colour after her favourite cat's eyes.