I talked with my precious eight year old little cousin today. She told me all about how she’s been doing extra chores to help raise money for people outside the country who don’t have food or anything. Now that she’s finished raising the money she said she’s finished doing chores!
That’s a lot like how people are in life. You do all you can to get where you want to be, at all costs. But once you get there, you won’t use that same ambition and drive to maintain what you’ve worked so hard to achieve.
She also read me a letter that she found from my mother that was written to her. It brought tears to my eyes this morning. She read it as if my mother was exuding from her lips and going through the wireless realm to my heart. I asked my little cousin if she remembered her. Her response so casually is, “Of course I remember her! Hey, I found a dollar!” Kids are so resilient, and casual, and accepting. She understands and accepts that her Aunt Mary has been in heaven for almost four years. She knows that she can speak to her and that she still loves her.
I on the other hand, can become a blubbering pile of mess at even the thought of her. With thanksgiving looming I can’t help but think about what I’m thankful for. But I also can’t help but think about that wonderful, beautiful, woman that made me who I am today. I miss her so much everyday. I just stopped begging God to bring her back and erase her death completely. But it’s still hard for me to talk about her. I tried to erase her from my memories completely, thinking that would make the pain go away. It did for a short time, but the love that a mother has for a daughter, and a daughter has for a mother prevailed. I would give anything to have her here with me. But I know I have to stay strong for the rest of my family.
I remember being in the car with my mom on the way to Shelton State Community College. I said, “Will you be my mom in heaven?” She said, “I don’t know, maybe.” And I said, “I don’t want to go to heaven if you aren’t going to be my mom.” To which she replied, “Well you don’t want the alternative!”
She was a remarkable person, wife, mother, my beset friend. Living without her is a day by day task that I have to try to do my best to live where she would be proud.
