Sunday night Number Six and I made these Brazilian cheese breads for our light supper, and I used the very last of a Fleishmanns kit Mamãe had sent me. Together with the carefully preserved flour mix there was a note, a note I hadn't dare to hold again in my hands for five years. Just a simple, practical note, with love, advice, happy wishes. So just like her. So much like so many notes and letters I was happy to receive from her.
It will be five years, next week, since her death. There has been seldom a day that I haven't thought of her. Now I see that when she was still on this earth, even if we communicated not very often due to the distance, I was in a way always thinking of her . "I need to show this to her", or "I can't wait to tell her this" etc etc, were constant type of thoughts. They have continued since, and with each the sorrow realization that this is no longer possible--not while I am still in this valley of tears.
Because I lived a domestic life, so similar, but oh so varied and always so far away, I may perhaps be the fortunate recipient of the largest number of her letters. I needed advice, and she was so kind to give it! It may take me yet another five years, or even more, before I can go through those letters again without breaking in painful sobs, but still when she was alive I used to tell her that her words were so precious to me.... and that one day I'd write a book called "Letters from my Mamãe"... in this day and age of the publishing world, I may publish a blog instead of a book.