The Hand that Rocks the Cradle….

10 Oct

There is no way to be a perfect mother, and a million ways to be a good one.  Jill Churchill

Quiche Prep

Yesterday my friend stopped by and told me that her Mother had passed away a few days ago.  She told me that she was there at her bedside when her mother took her last breath and that she’d been able to spend some time with her sister who had been the main caregiver.  She shared how glad she was to have been there and how hard it was for her now that she was back home.

How well I know that feeling!  Having lost several family members, I know how hard it is to get back into your normal routine when you can’t help but feel that your world has forever changed.  And it has changed, whether or not it is apparent to others.  Life will be different from now on and that is not an easy thing to accept or to live with.

My own Mother has been gone for nearly 24 years.  I tried to make sense of that today.  Was her work on earth done?  Had she taught me everything she needed to?  I don’t think so.  But she did the best she could in the time that she had… and for that I am forever grateful.

Tonight I made a quiche for my friend to help her through this very difficult time of loss.   It’s just a small gift of food – but hopefully one that will help her realize that she has friends who care for her and understand what she is going through.

Life began with waking up and loving my mother’s face.  George Eliot

Spinach, Mushroom, and Sun-dried Tomato Quiche

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4 Responses to “The Hand that Rocks the Cradle….”

  1. Donna Wright October 10, 2012 at 9:10 PM #

    Beautiful writing and beautiful pie!

  2. Stella Schaaf October 17, 2012 at 3:09 PM #

    Please change our email address to stella.schaaf@gmail.com Old address was nsandss@juno.com Thank you.

    On Wed, Oct 10, 2012 at 8:50 PM, WordPress.com

  3. Devin Kelley January 16, 2013 at 1:00 PM #

    My mother told me that God would always be my closest friend in life. In February 1998 she passed away. Remembering those words, I wrote this poem several months later. Mom has gone to be with her friend.

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