We Rise Again

What is left behind when we are gone?

That is a question I’ve asked myself; a question I’ve worried about.

My memory is very long – I remember all kinds of things from when I was young, and moments of my life now as a mom. I worry because my husband doesn’t remember the kinds of things I remember. I worry that my children won’t remember. That I won’t be remembered.

What is left behind when we are gone?

I am not a scrap-booker, nor do I take very many pictures. I don’t make or give very many greeting cards. How will my children remember if there aren’t a million pictures of them? Or hoards of “stuff” from when they were little?

What is left behind when we are gone?

At the moment, I don’t have a ton of money to leave my children. I don’t have fancy cars or an RV or a vacation home for my children. I don’t have diamonds and expensive jewels to write about in a will for them to fight over.

What is left behind when we are gone?

I do have Memories:

  1. I have the words I have written. I have stories written with paper & pen in journals. So many stories that I have written here on my blog. Stories of bicycles and tree houses. Memories of days I have loved and been loved.
  2. I have the times I’ve snuggled in bed with them or on the couch or in the car where I’ve told them stories of when they were babies. Stories of how their Dad and I fell in love. Stories of their cousins and aunties and uncles and grand-parents
  3. I have the moments where life seemed to stand still; camping with family & friends, playing a board game on a Saturday night, going to a fancy restaurant for a special dinner, exploring a museum or the zoo. Days that you wished would never end.
  4. I have quilts that I have made for each of them. Hours spent outlining Harry Potter with glow in the dark thread. Creating fish in fabric that look like Nemo. Hand-stitching family livestock brands on squares with cows and horses on them.

I pray that someday they will take out those quilts and lovingly touch those threads and feel me near them. I pray that they will tell their children and grand-children the stories I told them. I pray that they will remember when they read those words written by their mother. I pray that they will see me there, in their eyes when they look in the mirror. I pray that they will feel me there when they have the courage be who they were meant to be and love who they want to love and make a difference in this world.

It is with Memory that We Rise Again:


this is part of the Five For Ten series from Momalom – today’s theme: Memory

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8 thoughts on “We Rise Again

  1. It’s a big goal of mine to take more pictures this summer. Well, actually, not just TAKE them but print them out. We’re terrible about doing that.

    The quilts will be cherished keepsakes, I’m sure.

  2. I often wonder that too. What will they remember about me when I’m gone? It’s what gets me away from this computer, not wanting them to remember that I was always in front of it instead of in front of THEM, you know?

  3. Hey at least you have quilts! I’m not a scrapbooker either, and I was worried. How would my little one remember me?

    And so I started the blog. My words, my reflections and even some pictures of me to go with the narrative. And hopefully, that is enough.

  4. My oldest is really into stories of when he was a baby. He likes to hear all about it, if he was just like his brother and sister now. The questions sometimes seem endless, but it’s nice to have an excuse to look back and remember.

  5. I think the reflections that you leave with your blogs and journal are important. Those are your words. No denying it.
    And the quilts – oh the quilts, those are priceless. Your loved ones can wrap themselves in them and know that you made them with your heart.

  6. Take it from me (as a daughter of parents who gave me memories), they will appreciate the memories much more than an “inheritance.” It is those memories that will continue to shape their lives. You are doing the right thing.

  7. That gave me chills! I really like what you said about the moments when time stands still. Those are the moments when I feel like I’ve had the breath knocked out of me (in the very best way). I focus on storing that piece of time in my heart and mind; and I hope my family is storing it away, as well.

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