The Shed Notebook: Remembering Mom and The Smallest Things

"Sometimes the smallest things take up the most room in your heart."- Winnie the Pooh

My mother died one year ago today. Mom also loved Winnie the Pooh. The quote I found today seems fitting as I reflect on Mom's life a year later.   I learned when Mom was ill and after she died she did the smallest things for others. When I would run into someone at the store, or a friend of hers  would come into the library, or family members would read another card sent in memory of Mom, there were always the smallest things people we remembered. We knew the big things. Her former students shared stories of her creative classroom, her animals in her classroom, her Valentine post office, and reading "Mrs. Piggle Wiggle." Her friends remembered her dedication to her teacher association, PTA, the Library Board, and her friendship. Her family will never forget the meals she prepared, the strong hand to reassure in time of need, her love for television shows and soaps,the vegetables and flowers from the garden, and the fruit cake, popcorn balls, and cookies at Christmas.

 I learned of the little things. She came home and brought a heater up to a cold building when the librarian was selling books at the annual book sale. Her and dad found extra money so a friend could get out of jail and be home for Christmas with his family. There was a story of how she stood in the sweltering sun selling sloppy joes at Frontier Days to support the Silver King School PTA. Mom volunteered at my own Chili Feed in the evening at my school since she couldn't volunteer during the day. She remembered her former students that were staff at Kindred during her last months even though she taught them over fifty years ago. When she was tired, couldn't remember things, hurt all over, and was confused in her last months of life she always thanked the workers, had a smile on her face when people came to visit, and listened to others tell their sad stories. She held my hand while I cried over the death of my dog Annie.
Those smallest things filled up my mother's heart. That is another part of her I love and miss a year later.