The signs are there for us to interpret so that we can make sense of the world and feel comfort.
My mom-mom passed away early in the morning on January 28th.
Up until two days before she died, my visits were just like they always had been. It was a Monday, around dinnertime. I always made sure that I came to see her when I knew no one else would be there. We shared a special bond, which was most evident during our one on one time.
She slept during the entire visit, opening her eyes from time to time so I know that she felt my presence. Usually whenever I left I would blow her kisses and tell her that I would see her tomorrow. This time, I held her hand for a while and rubbed her arm. I told her that I loved her. She opened her eyes and told me that she loved me too and then drifted off. It took all of her strength to speak those words and all of mine to not break down.
The day she died was cold and gray. There was snow, sleet and rain. On the day of her funeral it was unseasonably warm and the sun was shining bright. The next day it snowed six inches.
Because of certain circumstances, I have not yet been able to grieve her loss completely. So many parts of my life have become intertwined with the millions of emotions that I’ve had circling around me for the past year and a half. It will take a while to sort it all though, figuring out what to keep and what to let go.
I suppose that’s just part of the process.
Sunday was a particularly rough day for me, so I went to the cemetery. The flowers from her funeral were still on the grave. There were carnations, gladiolas and some other purple flowers. Everything was wilted and water logged from the snow with the exception of one red rose. It was the only rose there. She left that for me, to let me know that everything was going to be all right.
Up until two days before she died, my visits were just like they always had been. It was a Monday, around dinnertime. I always made sure that I came to see her when I knew no one else would be there. We shared a special bond, which was most evident during our one on one time.
She slept during the entire visit, opening her eyes from time to time so I know that she felt my presence. Usually whenever I left I would blow her kisses and tell her that I would see her tomorrow. This time, I held her hand for a while and rubbed her arm. I told her that I loved her. She opened her eyes and told me that she loved me too and then drifted off. It took all of her strength to speak those words and all of mine to not break down.
The day she died was cold and gray. There was snow, sleet and rain. On the day of her funeral it was unseasonably warm and the sun was shining bright. The next day it snowed six inches.
Because of certain circumstances, I have not yet been able to grieve her loss completely. So many parts of my life have become intertwined with the millions of emotions that I’ve had circling around me for the past year and a half. It will take a while to sort it all though, figuring out what to keep and what to let go.
I suppose that’s just part of the process.
Sunday was a particularly rough day for me, so I went to the cemetery. The flowers from her funeral were still on the grave. There were carnations, gladiolas and some other purple flowers. Everything was wilted and water logged from the snow with the exception of one red rose. It was the only rose there. She left that for me, to let me know that everything was going to be all right.
