A Legacy to Give Thanks For

This year has brought a great many things into my family’s life. On the one hand, there is cause for great rejoicing. Our family is expecting a new addition at the beginning of February and that is a reason to be excited.

However, this year has seen us through great loss, too. As many of you know, I was planning on releasing my novel, Where the Orchids Grow Wild, in August. I had all the blog posts written and ready to schedule leading up to the release date. The final draft was in my editor’s hand for review and any final touches necessary. But a quick trip to Whiskers on Kittens and you’ll see that the last blog post date was July 6th. And a cursory search on Amazon will show you that not a single publication exists under the author’s name: Eirene Ritznore.

Shortly after the 4th of July, my mother became very ill. This required a major re-prioritization for everyone in our family. The nature of my husband’s job as a chief engineer aboard an off shore supply vessel requires him to be away for at least a month at a time. Coupled with my brother’s demanding work schedule, much of the care my mother required fell to me. And, considering my condition and the fact that I have a very energetic toddler, my writing and my book had to take a back seat.

In the middle of all of this, our eldest cat, Geordie MacPuff passed away. We buried him in our back garden beneath a large rock upon which he always liked to sit. We are making a metal plaque for it which will read: Here Lies Geordie MacPuff, Thane of Cottontown. In generations to come, I’m sure that plaque will make many people curious. Who exactly was Geordie MacPuff?

In September, my mother’s health began to decline rapidly to the point where we had to bring in hospice care. Fortunately, we were able to keep her at home, which was her wish. My sister-in-law and I cared for her with the auxiliary help of nurses and home aids that came periodically throughout the weeks. And one beautiful morning in October, my mother stepped into glory and the waiting arms of her Savior.

While her leaving this realm was not an entire surprise, it has not made her absence in our lives any easier. For the last eleven years since my father’s untimely passing, she has lived with us and been a bulwark, the matriarch of the family.

Going into the holiday season this year feels very different for our family. For me personally, I have lost one of my dearest friends and confidants. For my son, he misses his Mimi everyday and doesn’t fully understand why she’s not coming back. He’s only four and the concepts of death and heaven aren’t fully formed for him yet. For us all, we’ve lost the one person who we knew prayed each of us through our mountains and our valleys.

But therein lies an exquisite beauty. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving here in the United States. And while a holiday focused so entirely on family gathering will be most difficult without my mom present, each one of us holds at the deepest core of ourselves something for which we are grateful. My mother touched each of our lives. In our immediate family, she has left us with a legacy we cannot deny.

For my brother, my sister-in-law, my husband, and I, she taught us how to walk uprightly. She taught us faith. She taught us how to pray. And, a thing for which I can hardly find words of gratitude for, her life provides the roadmap on how to love Jesus and walk in a relationship with Him.

Mom was a journaler. Not of her ideas, but of the revelation and wisdom she gained throughout all her years walking with the Lord. My brother and I now have those journals along with her well-worn bible which not resides beside my father’s equally well-worn bible. The margins are filled with notes. Verses are underlined with little thoughts written beside them. The pages are worn and torn and taped together. The bindings are held together with duct tape. These books are proof of a life well lived. And while I cannot be with my mother, I have her bible and her notebooks which provide me with her thoughts on the most important things in life. I am profoundly grateful for this as most of the conversations I had with my mother, particularly in recent years, all ended up centering around the things of God. It was our favorite topic. Always.

I know I am not the only one out there who has lost her parents. For many others, your story is similar. And it makes Thanksgiving and Christmas bittersweet because their loss is felt more acutely at this time. But I encourage you to take some small time out, find something that connects you to her parent(s)- for me it’s mom’s bible, for you it could be a sweater or a card or anything that conjures said parent(s) to mind- and take a few moments to let thanksgiving brim in your heart for how your life was touched and shaped because of them.

I wish you all, dear readers, the happiest of Thanksgivings. May it be filled with good company, delicious food, and wonderful memories that bring warmth to your heart.

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