It has been a week since you left this existence to enter into another life.
Oh how I miss you. How many times have I picked up the phone to tell you something funny that just happened, a great score I made while shopping, or the movie that just moved me. I want to call you, but I know you won’t answer. Dad will pick up the phone, and I try, unsuccessfully, to relate to him, the purpose for my call. He just doesn’t “get” the thrill of a new pair of boots for 40% off. That is “our” score. Ours. Yours and mine, what we clink our glasses to at dinner. Score!
I think about you all the time. Even in my deepest sleep. Two nights after you died, in the middle of a dream, you appeared in front of me, and stroked my cheek, twice, as if to tell me “Do Not Cry—It’s All Good”, and then you rose back into the light.
I have so many questions for you. Could you feel my love? Were you at peace? Did you know you were dying? Did you believe that we would all be OK once you passed?
I can tell you this, Momma, that although we had those “Mom and Daughter” battles during my tumultuous teens, I am forever grateful for the months of truly bonding during your illness. Looking through endless pictures spanning your youth to my adulthood, we commemorated the past, lived in the moment, and speculated on the future. Those moments are forever held in my heart.
When you realized just how sick you were, that you would never walk again, I climbed into bed with you and we held each other and cried. We kissed and hugged every day. And “I Love You’” was a constant reminder of any love left unsaid in years passed. I now have a permanent reminder- a tattoo- to “breathe”, in your honor. In LOVE for you.
I want to share this video with you. I find myself watching it often, singing it loudly, sending it to you with all my love. I love you, Momma. I love you.
To you, I release this prayer, this song , this love. And so it is.