i have her eyes

I have her eyes. Many of us have her eyes. Even my first-born, her great-grandson, has her eyes. If I look into her eyes or my dad’s or my son’s or at my own in the mirror, it seems as though our souls are all connected. I have her height as well. Sometimes I see so much of myself in her, and it has created a deep sense of reflection in me as I’ve watched her age. I’ve just become so aware of the stages and phases of life. Right now I’m raising young children and think one day they will be grown. And I’ll be a little old woman with those brown eyes and a deep pride for my children and with a past that I will reflect on with fondness as she has. She never missed an opportunity to tell others at her home at the Southwind of the five boys she raised. And it always made her so happy to listen to them all laughing, talking and teasing each other. They always got the best laughs out of her, where she’d be almost crying.

I received a quote from my aunt when she heard the news of Grandmaman, and it just perfectly explains all these thoughts I’m trying to organize in my head.

"What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others." - Pericles

An era, or a time is over right now, and its closing has been in the works for a while. The Christmas celebrations in the basement of Crestmoore, the smell of tortière in Grandmaman’s kitchen, standing on a stool in her sewing room being measured for my high-school graduation dress, learning how to stretch and pin a quilt using picnic table clips, sleeping in her bed as small child (under a quilt she sewed and stitched), while she slept down the hall and endured Grandpapa’s roaring snoring…and us never finishing those porcelain dolls.

Her talents and hunger for creating hand-made things were numerous. Cooking, quilting, sewing, smocking, crocheting, tatting, paper tole, doll making. She was always eager to teach and share her talents, and I’ve tried my hand at most of her talents. I also share her way of bursting with ideas of things to create and starting a whole bunch of projects and having all these things on the go at once. And over time we do complete things, but there are always dozens of projects sitting in boxes just waiting. I actually have a box of some of her unfinished projects in my own sewing room, waiting for my time, love and attention. And that is what Grandmaman gave so much of to her creative endeavours and to her family. Her time, love and attention.

And she has woven so much of her time, love and attention into all of our lives. It is woven into the things she has made for us. It is woven deep within our hearts. And deep within many of our warm, brown eyes. Look around, look into each other’s eyes. She is there. Never to be forgotten.