I just smeared on the last of a bottle of lotion my mom gave me. It was from the Body Shop, “Dreams Unlimited.” We were shopping the weekend before they left for Houston, seeking a cure at MD Anderson. Grandma wanted lotion, and it was the only scent she liked. I liked it too, so along with the bottle for Grandma Mom bought me one as well. Its hard to believe I won’t get more gifts from her, and when things that remind me of her wear or run out I feel the loss all over again.
Its just lotion, and too perfume-ey at that. It seems silly to cry about the end of a bottle of lotion. But I can’t help myself.
I tried to save it. I didn’t use it that often, but it started to evaporate in the bottle. Some things just slip through your fingers, no matter how much you try to hang on.
I wish dreams really were unlimited. But sometimes they run out of gas, hit a wall, die on the vine, go up in flames. Sometimes new dreams grow from the ashes of those that burned to dust, and sometimes not. But there are dreams that just aren’t meant to be. Heartbreaking, isn’t it?
Thank you for your kind words on my recent post on mygreenbananas. I enjoyed your blog as well. Ahhh the bougainvillea, such beautiful flowers and such nasty thorns, like life and nature
Your post is such an accurate metaphor for the way loved ones slip through our hands. I am so truly sorry for your loss. Grief is a cruel companion, surprising us with its ability to stick around and “pop up” in unexpected places.
You just break my heart.
We cling tightly to all that we have left in the physical realm. I guess it can’t be helped. When that item runs out, or is lost, or broken . . . oh, watch out for the pain of attachment–our fear of letting go, our transference of people to things. If our homes burnt to the ground and all was lost–our precious connections to those we have loved–would it really have the power to erase our memory? It’s an absolute comfort to have those material items near, but as we move on, it’s definitely better to keep loved ones alive in non-material ways, such as speaking with them when enjoying a full moon or a perfect sunset, or when breathing in the sweetness of roses. Things can be lost. Love cannot.