That which we call a rose by any other name would still smell as sweet.
So is a year still a year if you're not ready for it to be? Of course it is, but it is still so hard. In a couple of short weeks we will once again be upon Mom's birthday. Only days after that, the first anniversary of her passing.
I miss her so much. There are days when I want to run across the street and tell her about something amazing or cry to her because she always listened when my feelings were hurt. I want to bring her the kittens that my barn cat just gave birth to so that she can remark about how tiny they are. I want her to see how beautiful my little girl is becomg and the man my son has grown into. At Christmas I missed her as I was holding her newborn great-grandson. On Mother's Day I missed spending entirely too much money on her garden and getting my first sunburn of the year planting her beautiful sanctuary.
Do I have anything of any merit to say today? Not really, just viewing the last 12 months in retrospect, missing my friend, and grieving my beloved mother-in-law.
The moon covered the sun last night, like the sadness over my heart.
I ride the wind in my face, my horse running,
the tears drip from my chin as I breathe in meories of you.
Your love was a soft place to land, a veritable hiding place
Your lessons never forgotten, handwriting scribbled on my heart forever.
I long to talk to you, to ask advice, to share my sadness, my joy
Even our petty arguments, those of a mother and daughter, lost, gone
I am blessed. I am a better person to have had you in my life for a time.
I am honored. I am a stronger woman for having loved you.
I am incomplete. Part of me gone until that day we meet again.
I love you. I miss you.
K. Lusk 5/21/2012