The Craftsman

Sometimes I wake up feeling a bit down. Thankfully as I've gotten older, it happens less. Yesterday it probably had much to do with it being my mom's birthday- but as I recall my mom didn't have 10 birthdays in a year. But it's relatively a rare feeling- really too much to be grateful for, too much of an opportunity that each day provides.

After a funny phone call with my Dad, going outside in the sun and tossing a big soft yellow ball with Oliver, I was feeling good again (please remind me to get outside sooner with a ball, thank you). We went to dinner last night (U-Lee, again!) with my Dad coming out here!, brother, sister and Kevin. Although no one mentioned my mom's birthday, she was there. Later, Dext and I watched a show and and this was the theme of the program: time heals all wounds and yet absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Previous to this blog, I kept a written journal as much for her as for the boys. This current format works better as it is easier to find and easier to add pictures. However, here is an entry from 2/18/10.

Dear Mom, It seems like its been a busy year. Sorry that I haven't written to you in some time. However i think about you everyday. Maria does too and you would be happy to know that both Dexter and Oliver miss you and talk about you. Dexter keeps a picture of you by his bed and whenever I seem to stumble or seem sad, he rushes to my side. Oliver had a dream that you and him were fighting bad guys. Maria makes sure that the boys remember you. Dad passed his drivers test recently (third try but one time he forgot his reading glasses). We had dinner with Traci on your birthday. I think she came out for Dad (and you) . We ate on Balboa Street. Thank you for all the help you provided us and the grace to plan for the future.

It gets a bit lengthy filling in on the rest of the family: Ann and John (Maria's parents), Bobby and Meredyth's upcoming wedding, nephew Johnny in Iraq, everyone. I hope that she is here, watching over us- if only for curiosity's sake in the present, if only to be close to the boys, and as a lasting presence that existed so long in my life. I am not so sure that someone lives on- I hope so, but of course, do not know so but much as a the work of a craftsman survives existing in a physical sense, then this is how May Chew survives; her deeds, her thoughts, and in me.