Missing Mom’s Mary
As long as I remember, my mother (Barbara F. Humphrey 1/4/1928- 1/24/2021) had a small carved wood Virgin Mary statue on her dresser. I do not know where it came from, but sadly, I do know where it ended up. As her dementia had progressed, I moved Mom into the medical wing of her care facility in early March, 2020. A week later the pandemic lockdown hit, and she was isolated in the facility for months, though the staff cared for her with great kindness. Her dementia made “video” visits hard as she did not understand the technology. It was a very painful process, though her final decline in January of 2021 allowed me to enter the building to stay with her. The “rules” were such I was only to stay an hour, but I basically moved into her room and did not leave for 3 days.
The staff was supportive, bringing me food and helping as needed. My mother recognized me, calling out my name and the time spent was a blessing for both of us. When I left, she was not conscious, and died with my brother by her side the next day. After she had passed, I communicated with the facility about returning to gather her things. Turned out that due to the lockdown, I was no longer allowed in the building, and the staff would pack and move her belongings to the parking garage for me to retrieve. In Minnesota. In February. After driving there, hubby and I worked quickly to sort through randomly packed boxes. We pulled out items to save, piled things for the thrift store, and threw away unnecessary stuff. One box I put aside held my mother’s bible and the lovely wood sculpture of Mary. A few trips to the thrift store, and a Grinch-like packing of the car, and we turned around and drove home.
Sadly, when I got home and emptied the boxes, the one with the bible and statue was missing. In the frenetic frigid parking garage packing, the box ended up at the thrift store. I called, hoping the statue might still be there. The kind woman looked, but did not see the statue and said it likely sold already. I know it is a small thing, but it still caused a sad dent to my heart. While it was hard to say goodbye to Mom – and her lovely Mary statue – I know Mom would forgive me my mistake. The statue is still in my memory, and I often keep my eye out for one when I am thrifting. Losing that touchstone of my mother’s has made me recognize that “things” can offer us peace. But the reality is it is the memories imbued within them that are more important. Losing “things” is part of aging, and offers us baby steps to being at peace as we lose loved ones – a much more difficult process.
This terra cotta statue sits on my sun porch off our bedroom. She came from a friend who was downsizing and moving out of state. He did not know much about her, other than she was gifted to he and his husband from a friend who picked it up in Michigan at convent estate sale. She is remarkably heavy – likely 25 pounds, though some of that is the solid oak base she is attached to. The artist signed the piece but I cannot make heads or tails out of the signature. The woman sits with a piece of “fabric” in her lap, though it has lost whatever decorations were originally on it, as I suspect it spent a long time outdoors. The bird has a halo with heart shaped wings - a dove of peace or a representation of the “holy ghost” most likely.
She perches on a vintage wicker table gifted to me by a friend on the sun porch off our bedroom. I redid the room after my mother died, choosing the Anna French butterfly wallpaper and blue trim paint. Mom was often gifted dragonfly items, though dragonfly wallpaper is harder to locate than you might think. Butterflies, associated as they are with the Myth of Psyche and my college thesis, have more meaning to me. Often I will sit on the porch and take a moment, either reading, or just breathing in peacefulness. Watched over by my large Mary replacement. Knowing Mom understands.
