As a young adult I remember being embarrassed by my mom's
willingness to make friends with any person who came along.
She was not shy about offering a helping hand or a generous smile
to someone who didn't seem to invite the gesture.
I remember being protective of her, whispering under my breath,
"Mom, come on," and guiding her away from the awkward interaction.
But it was who my mom was.
She genuinely cared about others, and wanted to make them smile.
She was a woman who was always eager to connect.
To make eye contact,
to make someone smile,
to bring the good out in others.
I love this pic of my mom (right) and her sister, Betty. 2013.
She was a woman who was always eager to connect.
To make eye contact,
to make someone smile,
to bring the good out in others.
As my mom's memory began to get worse,
she stopped personal training at Bally's
and found a job working at Loehmann's in the Ladies fitting room.
She worked there for about 5 years before she retired.
she stopped personal training at Bally's
and found a job working at Loehmann's in the Ladies fitting room.
She worked there for about 5 years before she retired.
It was the perfect setting for her.
She could greet people with a smile,
ask them how their day was,
and maybe make them feel good about the clothes they tried on.
But sometimes, people could see my mom beyond being just the fitting room attendant.
They got to know her compassion, and the love she was
willing to share with complete strangers.
A few years back when we were moving my mom,
(I wrote a post on that here.)
I came across a letter she received from a woman, Cynthia, who came in to
Loehmann's and met my mom in the most unique way.
It was around Christmas time.
She took the time to write about it, and then send it in a form of a letter
to Loehmann's with my mom's attention on the envelope. It read:
to Loehmann's with my mom's attention on the envelope. It read:
"My dear friends,
No one tells you of the pitfalls that occur around a holiday death, so let me offer a few words of caution.
Strangers will ask you if you had a good Christmas. If you are unprepared for this query, you may blurt out the truth: 'No! My mother died on Sunday' and then you will burst into tears. If you are lucky and shopping at Loehmann's, the fitting room attendant will usher you into a fitting room and embrace you, offering words of encouragement and solace and 'Take all the time you need.'
Before you know it, the fitting room attendant is your new best friend, and you are locked in a mutual embrace. Words of comfort from a complete stranger. Then your good girl will kick in- 'You just made this woman feel bad for offering you a holiday greeting' Time to comfort her, and so you do.
Beware of shopping while grieving. But if you do, shop at Loehmann's.
Cynthia"
I still have that letter.
It is a great reminder of who my mom was.
& if I knew how, I would thank Cynthia for writing it.
I miss my Mom.
She is here, but she no longer talks much.
Every once and a while I will get an "I love you"
or a "You're wonderful!"
and I hang onto it with everything I've got.
She still recognizes me,
and often her eyes will light up
and she will smile big when she sees me.
When I hug her, she leans in.
When I hold her hand, she squeezes it tight.
She is in there.
Bits and pieces of the mom I once knew.
That's the good stuff.
Happy Mother's Day Mom.
XOXO
Aimee
