Thursday, September 28, 2017

The Pink, Fuzzy Robe

Embarrassing or proud? What if I told you the pink, fuzzy robe I still wear is twenty-four years old? Yes, it's a little tattered. The pocket is coming unsewn. Some of the fuzz is worn thin in places, especially the hem. There's a hole by one of the buttons. But, I wouldn't give up that robe if you offered me a new one woven out of 24 karat gold.

You see, my mom gave me that pink, fuzzy robe to wear in the hospital to deliver my oldest son. She was ailing and hadn't been well enough to even attend my baby shower. I'm sure my brother had to help her purchase the robe, but it will always be from my mom.

The two of them came to the hospital to see me and my new little baby boy who looked like a little Indian baby. He had dark skin and thick black hair. I proudly wore my pink robe and watched as my mom cautiously held the baby for only a few moments as she sat in her wheelchair, the pain clearly stretched across her face from her failing heart.

It was the last thing she bought me. The last time she held my son. The last time I saw her. 

She died in less than four weeks from my son's birth.

For years, it was too difficult to look at the photos of her holding my son that day because it was so shocking to see just how ill she really was.  However, the robe has always comforted me when I needed a hug that you can only get from your mom as I've dealt with continued health problems, a challenging marriage and the day-to-day difficulties of raising two children with anxiety disorder, autism, depression, obsessive compulsive disorder, oppositional defiance, health issues, and learning disabilities.

Have you kept something from someone you cared dearly for that helps you through the difficult days? Please share in the comments.

Cindy A. Christiansen
Sweet Romance, Humor, Suspense...and Dogs! 
Fly into a good book at: 
Photo of dog from Nataly Ponomarenko 

No comments:

Post a Comment

I love hearing from you! Thanks for commenting.