Way waaaay back when I first started this blog (okay, it was the fall of 2012, but it feels like it was a long time ago), I tried posting a regular feature called “Quote of the Week” where I’d highlight a funny phrase one of my kids said and tell the backstory to it. My second “Quote of the Week” was posted back in September 2012 with the following phrase, stated so eloquently by Little Dude:
“Mom, I’m going from patient to pissed!”
If you want to read the backstory to why he said that, click here.
When I began blogging, I had about five loyal readers. Today, I have about ten, but let’s not focus on that now. One of my most faithful readers was my mother. She’d rarely write anything in the comment section, but I’d almost always receive an email from her the same day of my post, saying something like, “fantastic last line on your post today – xoxo” or “one of my favorite posts yet – xoxo.” I loved hearing her feedback, even if I knew it was
incredibly slightly biased.
When I posted the above “Quote of the Week,” I can’t recall her exact comment, but I do remember having a phone conversation about it and she kvelled (look it up – Yiddish word) over how beautifully Little Dude could express himself.
A few months after I started blogging, my mother’s cancer returned and she succumbed to pancreatic cancer months later in April 29, 2013, one year ago today. After her passing, I went into the city about once a week to spend time with my dad and brought him meals (cooked by my husband of course). Although we weren’t ready to think about what to do with my mother’s clothes and possessions, we did sift through her mail and more immediate concerns. One day, we came across an unfinished needlepoint. When I saw more specifically what she had been working on, I almost couldn’t believe it. The needlepoint was Little Dude’s quote, which she lifted straight from my blog.
I’m not clear on whether she was working on the needlepoint to give to me or Little Dude, but I do know she wanted to surprise one (or both) of us with it. There was only one problem: I have no idea how to needlepoint. My dad suggested perhaps I just frame it as is, half-finished. But, I knew she’d want it completed.
As my ten loyal readers know, Little Dude was diagnosed with his cancerous tumor a mere two months after my mom’s passing. As I thought more about the unfinished needlepoint, I realized I needed to have it finished to give to Little Dude as a surprise once his treatments were done. His quote also seemed to have more meaning now — perhaps even a double one, since he’s been a patient for the past ten months. But since he and I have been essentially velcroed to one another this past year, I wasn’t sure how I could work on the needlepoint without him seeing it.
About two months ago, I walked into the needlepoint store, which oddly enough is in walking distance of my house. I knew I was running out of time because Little Dude was scheduled to finish his treatments in April 2014. I explained my predicament and asked if I could pay someone there to finish it. She took the needlepoint and my phone number and said she’d get back to me. A few weeks later, I received a phone call that the needlepoint had been finished as a joint effort by all their employees and there was no charge for it. My first thought? There are still lots of good people out there. ♥
Last night, I presented the needlepoint to Little Dude. We are going to hang it in his room, so he has a constant reminder of both his loving grandma as well as his own sense of humor, which undoubtedly helped him through this very difficult year. Here is Grandma Ethel’s masterpiece (with a little help from the local needlepoint shop), as inspired by Little Dude: