By Our Works

For a number of years, spouse and  I spent every Christmas in Yonkers, New York, with some of my husband's family, hosted by one of my spouse's cousins "B".

Now, my mother in law is gone, a cousin who came every year is gone, and his 107 year old mother are gone. 

A tradition ended?  Yes.

A tradition begun?  Maybe.

When old traditions end, I like to think new traditions begin. Everything eventually changes.

Sometime in November, B gave us a call.  She wanted to come up here for Christmas - there was little reason for her to stay at home (she lives by herself).  She promised to bring her signature dish that we all loved.  And, she would even stay in a motel (her preference, as she enjoys her alone time).

Several days later, she called again.  Could she also come for Christmas Eve?

So, we hosted both Christmas Eve and Christmas dinners, complete with the cousin's signature dish.

We shared a lot of memories, but memories are more than things that exist in our memories.

In a way, we live on in our works.

My spouse's 107 year old aunt (when she was younger) and the cousin who visited us were sisters.  One thing they both did was beadwork.  This is one example, one that I was given as a gift years ago. 

It was an honor to display, on my tree, a needlework ornament made by a work friend who died from cancer 21 years ago.  Every year I bring this out, and other ornaments she gave me (she loved to craft), and I remember her through my Christmas trees.

More memories, and I remember the year I made the doilies underneath some of the knickknacks.

The days of 2019 are dwindling, and so are the days of our lives.

I don't know how many more holiday seasons my spouse's cousin will be with us.  Or others I love.
I do know that we are gone, our works will remain.
Will your works be remembered?  Will mine?

I never thought about that when I was young.  But now, in my 60's, I think about it a lot.

Do you?