Over the weekend, I received an envelope in the mail from my sister. She had made two "cards" and asked Mom to send them to me. Each is a piece of unfolded construction paper adorned with foam letter stickers and some stamps. The letters have been arranged to spell out our names.
These cards are how Lyn tells me she loves us.
She's long made cards when we weren't feeling well or when we were celebrating something special such as birthdays, anniversaries or our adoption. The cards used to include a picture she drew or a sentence she wrote. She used to sign "Love" before writing her name. The cards used to be folded and were sometimes multiple pages bound together as a booklet containing her well wishes for us.
The complexity is gone now. The cards are flat sheets. There are no sentences. There is drawing, binding nor hand-written "love." There is still love. The love is there in the decision to make something for someone. The love is there with each letter she's asked Mom to carefully spell out for her. There is love with the few stamps which circle our names. There is love in the request that the cards be specifically mailed on their own and not tucked into a package of other items being sent to us.
She's lost so many skills but she still has the capacity to show love.