For almost a year and a half, I visited Kay nearly every week to give her a relaxing foot massage…It was a joy, a privilege, and the unfolding of a beautiful friendship... I loved when she wore this bright turquoise sweater. For a woman her age, I think she felt it was a little risqué, yet it reflected her vibrancy like nothing else she wore. The little row of beads at the neck sparkled like her personality and she stood out like the bright light she was in my life, like the bright light she still is. Kay helped me to see more clearly the light I carry. She taught me a lot about living and loving, and about letting go...because, eventually, there was a last foot massage, a final look from her to me, the passing of her spirit into another light.

Rose was always elegant and well-dressed…She smelled like bath powder and vanilla…She wanted the black cashmere sweater for her 91st birthday…As we cleaned out the drawers, my mother asked if I wanted it. The sweater looked almost new but had my grandmother's warm, powdery, sweet smell...The wool, living, alive, has taken on my scent as well and is threadbare from my wearing it so often, thinking of her with love...It is ready to go to the ocean of the whole, not to be passed on to another individual, but to join with many other people's clothing in this collective collage, this project of grief and love and memory.

The lovely light green knit wedding suit was a classy outfit for a classy, well-educated, beautiful young lady…It seems very special as it was not the usual white long gown. The earth green, the colour of new leaves, perhaps a symbol of the abundant life. The knit texture points to the woven, interconnectedness of all of life...Mom's wedding dress, her writings, and all the fond memories are like hidden treasures.

Each day was something to look forward to; mom had a way about her that lit up the entire room and the people in it. Some of her favourite things were the young kids, pets, flower gardens and plants, playing cards, and her favourite colourful housecoats...She was always the cornerstone of the Blondin family...She will always be remembered and loved.

My Great Uncle Bencion's three-piece brown suit represents an era, where gentlemen walked down the street, respected members of society, wearing suit and hat and speaking polite conversation to one another…He wrote books at the age of 93...He delighted himself in using ink that was not just regular blue, but azure like the sea in Italy. As he explained, his name looked more dignified signed in azure...His suit was his persona. It was the bridge from his rich, but lonely, inner world which connected him to others...His death is the death of the three-piece suit worn daily, even to the corner store.

From as early on as I can remember, I thought my grandma was super-cool…Grandma's walk-in closet! Oh, the colours! The beautiful, shiny dresses each hanging in its own special spot…Many years later, when my grandmother moved into a fulltime care facility, I was sent...a gold silk, beaded gown that I never remembered seeing. After a little research in the family albums, we discovered that she had worn this dress for her son's wedding right around the time I was born...Even though she has passed on, I don't really miss her because I feel her with me all the time.

Hilda's death came peacefully and the division of her belongings was seriously considered among her family, with the belief that her spirit lives on in these things. Aina-Nia, one of her granddaughters, received her pink housedress…This dress, while loved by Hilda, has probably been even more cherished and loved by her granddaughter. Aina-Nia wore this housedress whenever she was sad, saying as she put it on, "Cover me, Hilda. Cover me."...She was comforted by the feeling of the fabric against her skin and the silent knowing that her grandmother's arms wrapped around her. Her grandmother walks with her through every sadness.

I remember how you patiently taught me to embroider when I was a young girl…I have cherished your yellow crocheted sweater as it was one of your favourites. Your mastery of these crafts began this family chain that has flowed from you through the generations.