Recently, one of my good friends passed away from cancer. We shared a very similar perspective and outlook on life, and also the love a writing.
She once asked me to help her set up a blog, which I did, but Facebook became her home for sharing herself with the world. I miss her terribly, and I feel sorry for people who never had the chance to know her. One of my favorite things she wrote was on Mother’s Day a few years ago, and so I want to share it here with you:
It is a holiday I have always struggled with. Don’t misread this. I do love my own sweet Mother, and I miss being able to pick up the phone and just let it all hang out. She seemed to make everything work out, no matter what we were facing…
Somewhere along the line, I fell short of being what I thought I could do, should do…didn’t. Never learned to sew for any one, did not graduate or even attend a college, (Unless the college of hard knock counts!)
I don’t play a musical instrument, or exercise like I should, or write term papers. Just me, what you see is what you get…apron and all, frizzy hair, chipped nail polish, wrinkled hands, missing teeth….yadda, yadda, yadda.
However, this I can promise each of my children, and those precious, precious grand younguns…I will always be with you, I’m in your DNA~
I will be in the whisper of the leaves as you walk down the street, the smell of certain foods…dandelions you pick, the appreciation of wet pines or sagebrush… the fragrance of life itself!
I will be in the rocks you find along your path, the unique and the plain. I will be in the cool hand on your brow, no matter how old you get. I will be in that wisp of your breath on a cold winter’s day. I am in the sound of rain, as it lulls you to sleep, the colors of a rainbow…I will be there on Christmas morning! I will be the hysterical story teller, and holder of secrets. I was your first love, your first friend…even your fist enemy! Nothing on earth can separate us, not time, not space…not even death.
I love you, and I promise…everything is going to be ok. Faith is believing the unbelievable, and I have enough for the both of us, until you find your own.