dragonlady7

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am at mom’s house, doing family-visit things.

cut; discussions of grief etc

went in the living room to sit in the comfy chair in a moment of downtime among Doings. This chair faces the TV and has a nice marble-topped coffee table next to it. We put Dad’s urn on there, as his interment isn’t until October. When we first put it there, Farmkid insisted on getting a pair of Dad’s handknit wool socks and setting them on top, in case his feet were cold. (She also made him a paper chocolate chip cookie, as chocolate chip was his favorite kind.)

[img description: a reddish wooden urn with a brass plaque sitting on a white marble tabletop, with a balled-up pair of wool socks on top and assorted clutter in front, including a knitted wool sock without the ends woven in yet, a pair of small sewing scissors and their fake leather black sheath debossed with the brand name (Gingher), a plastic yarn needle, and a coaster made of a photo of a man in a Union Army Civil War uniform and a modern rain slicker– Dad, a couple of years ago, stopping by the Farmer’s Market immediately after a re-enactment event.]

I glanced over and there’s another sock there now; Mom’s clearly in the process of making another pair. (She knits pairs of socks in rotation for everyone in the family.) I realized her new sewing scissors are also sitting there.

Those scissors are the subject of the last text conversation I ever had with Dad; he bought them for her for Christmas, after consulting with me about what kind to get.

[img desc screenshot of a text conversation from December, where Dad says “Mom wants me to get her sewing scissors for Christmas. I don’t know what good sewing scissors are, but thought you might. Any suggestions?” and I respond suggesting Ginger. I linked to the exact ones he ended up buying in a later message.]

idk man i don’t have a punchline. (Your picture was not posted)