 Photos I keep on my desk where I write: (Top) Mom & Me, 1984, (Bottom) Me & My Oldest, 2004 I came home today, mama, and this was not what I had in mind to write...then life happened. I was looking through items on my Facebook feed, heard a song that reminded me of you ("You Should Be Here" by Cole Swindell) and when the video was done, you were all I could think about. You should be here for this amazing journey of my writing career, celebrating the big and little milestones every step of the way. You should be here for the wondrous growth of that beautiful boy who is your great-grandson. You should be here to see all the exiting things both of your granddaughters are doing now, gushing over their accomplishments and adventures with your over-the-top dramatic flair. And deep down, I know your spirit IS here...but it's not the same.
Every day I think of at least a dozen things I wish I could share with you. Sometimes I want to scream them so loud I lose my voice trying to make you hear me. And sometimes I just want to scream, period. Dad doesn't give a rat's ass what I do. Brad's parents, who would be over the moon at all of the things happening in our lives are gone, and I am reminded, especially on days like today, that no matter how old I get, sometimes I just need my mom. Your sister is all I have left in this life of you, except for my memories. She has been such a blessing to me, mama. It's good that the one person left behind who is so strongly connected to you is also the one person who knew you best. She holds out on me with some details about you, but it's okay. Sisters have a totally different bond than mother's and daughters...your granddaughters taught me that. With your birthday only eight days away, I've been thinking about how I'll celebrate it this year. It's always a difficult process because on that day your absence is the most potently felt. It doesn't put me in a very celebratory mood, but I do it anyway because it's important. I'll figure something out before then that would make you smile. I miss you, mom...not a day goes by when I don't. Love, Your Daughter
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About The Author
I grew up in rural North Carolina. When I was only nineteen, I moved away and became a military wife. My only aspiration at that tender time in my life was to create an adult life that "fixed" all of the "injustices" of my childhood. Secretly, however, I wanted to reach for the sky! I wanted to be a writer and find ways to "save the world" (my mother used to say, "You have Save the World Syndrome".). Mostly, I wanted to matter. Archives
May 2018
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