in her footsteps

Written by,
Crickit Caputo

These footsteps are not footsteps in the figurative sense.

I am speaking of footsteps in the literal sense.

Where one actually steps in the same places that she did.

Where a chill runs up your spine, a smile crosses your face,

a tear softly floats down your cheek because you

are actually there--- where she once was.

These are the places that she

lived, learned, competed, danced, played,

laughed, cried, loved, dreamed and prayed.

The places where she became a wife and then a mother.

These are the footsteps of my mother.

My mother died at the young age of 38; in the year of 1977.

It was cancer that took her life and behind her,

 she left a husband of 18 1/2 years and three children.

Life-- as we all knew it, came to a crashing end.

Her children were 18 years, 15 years and 14 years;

the one in the middle-- that would be me.

 I never thought that at such a crucial age, I would ever be motherless.
But when the reality finally sets in that you are,
you either sink or swim.
God and my family were my life vest and so...
I floated for awhile.  


That time in our lives was extremely difficult.
But as with all things, after time, healing does take place.
You never forget, you just carry the precious memories with you
and they make you the person that you are today.

God was our hope, strength and comfort during those difficult times.

And He still is today.

He sustained us and helped us to carry on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fast forward  35 years later....

Now in our early to mid 50's
(next yr. the youngest will join the club)
These three siblings decided it was time to take our walk...

a "memory walk".

We wanted to find the houses she lived in,

schools she attended, swimming pool she competed in,

the church where she and our dad married,

hospital she birthed us in and most of all,

we wanted to walk in her footsteps,

the three of us-- together. 

With some of our own early childhood memories,

help from our Dad, "picking the brains" of our aunt and uncle,

and investigative work of our own, in finding specific locations;

we were finally ready to walk in her footsteps.

So, it was a September weekend that we set off...

Old photo's in hand, road maps, ipad, camera,

and three siblings who share in the memories of she--

 who gave birth to us, loved and nurtured us for a time

 and without wanting to... set us free.   

To Be Continued...