Terry’s grandmother, our beloved Granny, introduced me to the idea of a mother’s notebook. When Lauren was born, one of the first gifts Granny gave me was a gently used notebook she had picked up for me during one of her famous garage sale runs. She explained that every mother should have a notebook. She said that “You should use it to record childhood illnesses, and the cute things that the kids say and do over the years because eventually, you forget all that!” As a mother of 6 boys, Granny learned early the value of writing things down.
She pulled out her current notebook and shared it with me. It was a hodgepodge of information. She had included old family recipes, helpful hints, snippets of family history, and poignant memories. It was all thrown together potluck style in a garage sale notebook. I took my notebook home that day with the best of intentions, but I never really used it. She asked me several times over the years if I was keeping a notebook, I guiltily had to tell her that I wasn’t. It was always something that I thought I should do, but wasn’t sure how to start, and I never made time for it.
I didn’t truly understand the value of my notebook until after Lauren died. During the first stages of grief, I turned to my notebook in an effort to write down things that I wanted to tell London and Tj, in case I never got the chance to say them. I also wanted to archive family memories before my mind forgot them or confused them. There is so much in life that a mother wants to tell her children. As I poured my heart out on page after page, my notebook became my confidant. I emptied my pain onto its pages, and it held it for me when I could not hold it anymore. It listened to the things that I could not bring myself to say out loud. Keeping the notebook became my therapy.
Last year Granny
faded from her earthly existence right before our eyes. In her final days, I found myself sitting
with family members and enjoying her notebooks. We passed them around, laughed
a lot, and cried some. She had left her
family such a beautiful, heartfelt legacy.
Flipping through Granny’s notebooks was like an adventure. Things were written askew, newspaper
clippings, recipes, and photographs fell from the pages, but Granny’s message
was clear. Her notebooks contained
everything she wanted us to know. The notebooks are written in her hand, and I
can hear her voice as I read her words. She
lovingly left her family a veritable patchwork quilt of the knowledge and
memories she had accrued over the years of her life’s experience. I am inspired to do the same, and I can only
hope that my family will also find peace in knowing and remembering my heart
through the pages of my notebooks one day.
Tara Rodney
5/14/11
Dedicated to "Granny", Lily Mae Attuso Rodney