I have a pink Snuggie neatly folded in the bottom drawer of my guest bedroom. It was meant to be placed out of sight and hopefully mind. My mother, younger sister and I had a matching set. One for each in our own respective homes.
After my mother’s death I would s
After her funeral I found myself repeating the same behavior as my mother. Using my own blanket for
In time I came to realize that this object which once brought comfort had become a source of pain. I became saddened every time I wrapped myself in it. “How many other objects in my home reminded me of my mother” I wondered? It was time to let go of the grief. I knew that blanket held too many reminders of the love held between my mother and I.
For now, it’s not too far away. Neatly tucked away in a room I rarely use. It’s there if I need it, but I know that I’m strong just as she was and because of that I won’t be using it any time soon.