My lovely and sweet MC, since your sudden departure not a day has gone by when I don't think of your wonderful smile and your soothing voice…I sometimes wish I could go back in time and change the course of things by giving birth sooner so your wish of being a grandmother could have been fulfilled...Even though you cannot physically be here, I will try my best to convey all the wonderful things you would have bestowed upon your adoring granddaughter. Your spirit will live on forevermore.

Dear Donny...I remember how you used to love wearing your blue jeans…Two years have passed…I hold your jeans close to me and can still smell your scent and am still able to see you wearing them. I often wear your sweaters and feel your strength…I have a garden of beautiful memories, sprayed with a million tears.

Frank and I were married for 35 years and during our time together we did a tremendous amount of walking. So it seems appropriate that I send you something he wore on his feet (and that I've worn on my own feet since he died)…They carry many memories for me…like the Toronto Film Festival...For at least a dozen years we bought daytime passes and each picked our own movies. Over dinner we talked about what we'd seen that day. I bought these socks for Frank while browsing through a store between movies.

To our one and only Peggy, Margeurite, Mommy, Gran…Maggie, your namesake, loves this shirt, in particular. She has insisted that the safety pin you placed on it remain there over these last fourteen years since you left us. Your loss came at a time when Maggie was also losing the home life she had known to pursue her dream of dancing...For her, this shirt has been a way of holding on to you and to that part of her childhood...I have to be honest though. Looking at this shirt causes me some pain...I can see you unhappy and ill in it and I do so wish I could have made things better but...It is time to give it away. It is time to think about how much joy you had...How you saw happiness in such little things.

What could possibly represent my mama's sense of humour, her loyalty, her dedication to social justice, and her love for my father and me? In the end, I've settled on her so-called "biker jacket." Initially, the jacket was intended for me. I not only rejected it, I scoffed at it...My mother declared that if I didn't like it, well then she would wear it, and wear it with pizzazz!...I never told her how cool I thought it was that she wore the jacket...I only wish I could do so now. Instead, this biker jacket shall stand as a testament to my love and respect for my mother, the fabulous and oh-so-stylish Leah Cohen.

This is the dress you were wearing when you went from being my boyfriend's mom to becoming my mother-in-law. I remember you looking so beautiful and elegant. I always remember my mom saying "Being a mother-in-law is a very hard job, you are either too involved or not involved enough. It's a job you always lose at, so always be nice to your mother-in-law." Being nice to you was never a job I had to work at. I lucked out in that department...I look at this dress and I am so glad that you came into my life.

When I think of my mom and dad, I think of the unconditional love they would give us. Their souls were very innocent. Whatever they did, they did with a full heart. They knew to live within themselves, and to make that a happy place.

This shirt belonged to my dear husband, Terry, who was diagnosed with ALS…Together we tried to find joy in every day, whether it was a sunset, great cup of coffee or a visit from friends and family. He never forgot to thank me for my care or tell me how much he loved me.

Dear George...I'm looking at the sweatshirt your kindergarten children gave you when you retired as principal. It was the only article of clothing I didn't give away…I know how much you enjoyed wearing it - a reminder of your many years working with children. This piece of clothing is such an appropriate memorial for you.

The first prism I glimpsed of your nature came in giggles that echo in the depths of my memory…Thank you Mom…You Danced. And sang with the radio. While we sang with Dad. And you would recall those times in the mountains
In between As the World Turned…