the fellow fashionista

It has been a while since I’ve opened up my blog. I haven’t posted in many years, and a lot has happened since then. I adopted a wonderful dog, Penny, whom I’ve had for four years now, and she has brought so much joy and comfort into my life during these challenging times. As we have shared countless adventures together, from long walks in the park to cozy nights at home, she has become more than just a pet; she is a true companion. However, amidst the highlights of my life, I faced a profound loss when my mother passed away on July 26, 2024, after battling MDS. Her strength during her illness inspired me daily, and I find myself reflecting on our cherished memories and the invaluable life lessons she imparted to me. Though it has been a time of upheaval, I am determined to honor her legacy by living fully and sharing my thoughts and experiences once again through this blog.

Today is Mother’s Day. It is my second one without my mother. It has been 21 months, an amount that I now have to count because it is no longer simple to remember, and come July I’ll say “two years.” I think of her often, and miss her tremendously, especially on days like today when the world celebrates the love between mothers and their children. It was right after Mother’s Day in 2023 that she first got sick, plunging us into uncertainty and worry. Being in the hospital with high fevers that wouldn’t go away felt like a nightmare we couldn’t escape. We had plans to go see the live version of The Little Mermaid, had just bought tickets the day before Mother’s Day that I eventually got a refund for and went to the movie theatre by myself to watch the movie, feeling a mix of joy and sorrow. My mom and I often went to movies when I was growing up; I loved (and still love) movies and TV shows. I used to keep all my ticket stubs and saw a ton of movies with her, cherishing each moment, but I knew she would go see any movie with me, no matter how mundane or whimsical. We thought she was getting better before being readmitted at the beginning of June, only to face another wave of challenges as she stayed for 7 straight weeks, eventually going in and out of the ICU. My youngest niece was born the day my mom was first admitted to the ICU, a bittersweet reminder of life continuing in the face of struggle. During that 7-week hospital stay, her diagnosis of Myelodysplastic syndromes (MDS) brought a new layer of fear and uncertainty, leading to the decision for a bone marrow transplant from my aunt, which was a testament to our family’s bond and resilience, even amidst the hardest of times. I hold onto these memories, both painful and precious, as they remind me of her strength and the love we shared.

I used to always just text her random things. A new item I bought. A new craft I made. Something cute that reminded me of her. Since she died, there have been so many times that I wanted to just text or call her to share information or to ask her a simple question, like how to make mashed potatoes. It’s taken me this long to really process everything, but I’d love to utilize this place to be able to write letters to her. To share what has been going on in my life, the little moments that bring me joy, and the challenges that have made me stronger. Maybe something small, like how I picked up cross stitch and made my niece a unicorn cross stitch for her birthday, or big life updates like a change in jobs. I even designed my own cross stitch pattern of my dad’s parents’ house, a place that carries so many fond memories and that I often dream of moving into. These letters are not just a way to remember her but also a way to keep her spirit alive in my heart as I navigate this world without her.

My mom was a wonderful seamstress, and crafted immensely. Her creativity breathed life into fabrics, transforming simple materials into beautiful works of art. I can still remember the sound of the sewing machine humming in her sewing room. I have wished many times that I would’ve listened more when I was younger, during those moments when she showed interest in sewing, and paid attention to her as she patiently taught my sister and me the basics of this delicate craft. I wish I had taken the time to truly absorb her knowledge, to learn not just the technical aspects but also the love and passion she infused into each project.

There were definitely times when I wished I could call her to ask about a simple food question, such as making the perfect mashed potatoes, which she always seemed to know how to make just right. I often think back to those family gatherings where her culinary skills shone brightly. Additionally, it pains me to think that I can no longer send her a picture of something new I made, be it a craft project or a recipe I attempted. I long to show off my cakes or other baked good items I created, to hear her encouraging words and constructive feedback.

If only I could step into her sewing room again, rummage through all the treasures she once stored there, and grab items that I was in need of for a new craft I picked up. The memories of sharing that space with her linger in my mind, filled with laughter, moments of learning, and the warm embrace of shared experiences. Her spirit lives on in every stitch I sew, every recipe I recreate, and in the heartfelt love I pour into my own creations.

Of course, there are all the future times I know my mom will miss out on that I think about, filling me with a bittersweet nostalgia for moments we will never share together. If I get married or have children, she will always not be here to offer her love, guidance, and wisdom in those significant milestones of my life. But with the letters, it is like I can at least inform her of these life events, or again a small update, bridging the gap between us in a heartwarming way. Such as how I did my crumb coat perfectly, meticulous in every detail, found a shell that looked like a butterfly, a little treasure from my beach walks, had a great curly hair day that made me feel confident and beautiful, got a purple heating pad that became my comfort companion during back pain, made a “gift within a gift” through curly old wrapping paper and had perfect creases that reflected my creativity, enjoyed sunny walks with Pen, and made some alterations to my outfit. Each moment, captured in these letters, helps keep her spirit alive within my daily experiences, allowing me to feel connected to her, even when she’s not physically present.

Mother Letter

Mom, I recently got some beautiful flowers for my deck, and I couldn’t help but think of you when I chose them. I had to pick purple because you would’ve loved them. Let’s see how long I can keep them alive this time around, but I’m ready to give it a go! I’ve researched some tips on how to care for them. It feels nice to nurture them, and I hope to transform my space.