This old house will never be the same, but new traditions begin

Judith Zeng

It was a apparent but chilly mid-February morning when we picked my mom up for her last drive down Queen Bee Lane. The sun’s brilliance bounced off the snow-covered ground, with the shadows of excellent trees – void of summer months foliage – generating a stark distinction in between gentle and silhouettes of darkness.

Our travel was sluggish and deliberate, silent, as we inched absent from this home which was her property – our dwelling – for most of her lifestyle. With the bravery that only a mother could marshal, she explained, basically, that it was good to be outdoors.

Six months afterwards, at 94 many years of age, she passed peacefully with relatives by her side.

Paul Bugbee.

Instinctively, potentially in the chasm of loss, we discover ourselves sitting by yourself in a property which at the time radiated the heat and convenience of a mother’s love. Every thing was there — the pictures on the walls, the knickknacks in the corner, coffee stains on the carpet, and spouse and children portraits around her most loved chair. Reminders of a existence perfectly-lived.

Mother liked to rejoice holidays, with Christmas staying her preferred. Every single yr our household was adorned with Christmas sparkle, from holly wreaths on the door to mistletoe in the lobby. Together with hundreds of festive ornaments, brightly colored Christmas lights accented exterior features on our house and lit up the two Xmas trees inside – 1 in the dwelling place and a single downstairs.  

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