The magic of full and loving presence

Happy 2026, friends, for those of you who celebrate this particular calendar turning. And for everyone else, happy Tuesday or well wishes for wherever you are.

As you may have heard, on the winter solstice in late December, our family lost our dear sweet Linda– my Mom and dear friend and a friend/sister/caregiver/auntie/nana/mom/beloved/inspiration to so many, many others in her almost 79 years. She passed peacefully early Sunday morning just as Dad arrived in her memory care home to hold her hand and say goodbye, and we arrived a few minutes after him. She stuck around until we arrived– proving that just ridiculous levels of stubbornness run in our family. They told us that she had just passed. The center of Mom's face was glowing. In my head, I heard her say that she could now go to Costco, and out for coffee with us again, and that she was ready to go, as soon as we were (these had been our plans for the day). We were thinking about losing her. She was thinking about getting us back full time. And of coffee. And Costco. I nodded and smiled as I kissed her forehead goodbye, and I was aware that she was still with us. It sounds so simple. But that smile, and that awareness, at that moment, was everything.

It's not only forests and stars and oceans and sunsets and beaches and whales that are pure magic. We're magic, too. Mom taught me that. And friends, she's not done teaching that. We're just getting started! If you'd like to learn a bit about her laughter-filled life, you can read her obituary here.

If not magic, then what– exactly– would you call this?

That goodbye to Mom happened 17 days ago. Today, I found this lucky clover. Look at the photo. Pure magic! Whoops, I'm getting ahead of myself. Here's what happened...

I just found this golden clover in the bottom of an old, clear-glass container that had a few dusty old beach rocks and seashells in the bottom. A vase that has lived on the top of Mom’s wardrobe in memory care for the last 8 1/2 years. A vase that I put up there— with the help of a chair since the wardrobe was almost 7 feet tall — back when she moved into memory care. To the empty, clean container, I added the rocks and seashells on the bottom for weight and for their beauty because she loved beaches. For me, the vase had once been a container that I made homemade liqueur in. But its lid broke. So, for her it became a large, sturdy vase that held seasonally changed out (by me again) fabric flowers to enjoy. In her room, I was mother nature. Fresh flowers and vases of water in the rooms in memory care were discouraged, so this gave her a view of flowers year-round. We only snuck in fresh lilacs—into a different plastic vase—every May. Shhh. Anyway...

We’re of Irish (among others) descent. Mom’s birthday was on St Patrick's Day, so that day was an extra special day in our family. For fun, we always wore green and ate green things (we're famous for our green desserts, milkshakes, and green milk on oatmeal or cereal, for example), and more traditional Irish foods. We did this as much in her honor as for the saint– actually, frankly, way more so. I couldn't even tell you what St Patrick did. And. For as long as I can remember going back into my early childhood, Mom had clover items, especially jewelry– a clover keychain, necklace, bracelet, earrings– and several green scarves, although with her living with Alzheimer’s for more than 20 years much of it went missing along the way. We found very few green pieces or clover items last week in Dad’s stash of her good jewelry that had stayed at his house when she moved to memory care. We found just one green clover-covered sock in her drawer in memory care after she passed. I like to think she gave the other one away to someone in need of luck.

Then today, out of the blue, this golden clover showed up. I believe that this is one of a set of favorite birthday earrings that belonged to Mom. A set many decades old.

But how it got into the bottom of the vase that's been in her room for 8 years is a complete mystery. It wasn’t in the vase when I brought it to her room 8 years ago.

She hasn’t worn earrings since before she went into memory care: only bracelets and necklaces were with her when she moved in.

Every piece of jewelry with her in memory care was relatively new and unsentimental-to-anyone-in-the-family costume jewelry, because with 40 residents with memory issues things disappeared all the time. Not to mention that for many years in memory care, one of her favorite things to do was to give her bracelets away to people who needed a smile. For more than 6 of the past 8 years, we'd stop at the thrift store on the way to see her and bring her "new" bracelets to give away. My God. What a gift she was.

So, now I'm sitting here thinking this.

How did this piece of quality jewelry get here? A piece from decades ago. A piece I haven’t seen in decades.

How did it end up in this vase that was in her room?
Under dusty rocks and seashells?
A vase I know for sure didn't hold any earrings when I brought it there.
A vase she couldn't possibly reach even if she somehow did manage to smuggle a good earring into memory care.

How is this here?
Now.
For me to find?

My poet's brain thought
these things
in this order:
Leprechauns?
Spirit?
Guardian angel?
Miracle?
Could my sister have done this?
My niece?

Women, nanas, mothers, daughters, sisters, nieces.
We are all just pure magic
when we need to be.

This year
we need to be.

Don't give up hope, folks. 
Don't you dare give up hope.

Magic is real. 

Moms are magic.

Women are magic.

Gifts abound in this life and the next.

In sickness and in health.

I have the magic
golden clover
to prove it.

Thanks Mom.