2008.4.16 - momma’s last birthday
I painted her nails, buckwheat sent her gorgeous flowers, she danced to the music in her beautifully decaying mind, she was happy for this moment…this day.
the pain won more often than not, yet she smiled and loved free as she could.
she turned fifty-five and I cried; she held me and I wept; she needed the comforting, but I was a wreck for a single moment and she was the strong one again.
I miss her every single day; I remember her embrace, her smell, her laugh, and her voice…the way she would talk, move, and breathe…her walk, her elegant penmanship, and her passion.
we were inseparable near the end; she wanted no one around…I became the one exception…her baby, yet the strongest one.
on this day, she was dancing. as I sat there, by her side, I could envision how she saw herself…the dress, the music, the lipstick, the joy and love, the pure ecstasy; the reality of lung cancer jolted her from that glimmer of happiness and I held her.
today, she takes her sixty-first trip around the sun in a velvet lined, marble engraved, completely sealed box that lays under several feet of earth.
red door no longer evokes anger in me; neither do her favorite songs.
I’ve finally realized she isn’t on a vacation and I need to carry on her insatiable love, pure joy, infectious laugh, and contagious happiness.
they don’t teach you about heartache in school; luckily she was there for a good portion of my life and soothed me through numerous heartaches. little did I know that she would be my greatest heartache and greatest lesson.
the one soul that could heal invisible wounds would be the one to break my damn heart clean in two.
nothing could prepare me for this. she was my rock and I fucking crumbled without her. I’ve pieced myself back together…not perfectly, but damn good enough.
six years ago, she turned fifty-five and I turned cold. today, I am alive and I know for damn sure she would be proud.