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Today is the 53rd anniversary of my mother’s death. My mother, who was born on Christmas Eve and always adored Christmas waited until the day after Epiphany to die. I’m sure she delayed her death so as not to impact our Christmas holidays going forward.
She was always thinking of others like that. Especially — her kids.
The sadness and grief that have walked with me for all these decades seems a familiar friend today. There is comfort in knowing that I have survived over 50 years without my mother’s physical presence. There is comfort in recognizing all the amazing Humans who supported me when I was set on this path. There is comfort in the love I have for my mother’s grandchildren and The Magical Creatures (her great-grandchildren).
I can glimpse bits and pieces of her in them. She is in the brown of their eyes. She is in the tone of their voices. She is in their smiles — so like mine and hers.
So today, I take a few moments to remember All. The. Things about her that I can. I remember the smell of White Shoulders — her favorite perfume. I remember the safety of her arms when I was scared. I remember her patience as she found herself a mother again at age 43. I remember her laugh and the sound of her voice lifted in song. I remember the grace with which she held herself in battle…
