Its been a little over three months since you left. Each and every day I think of you and talk to you. Each night as I go to bed we still have our time together, except now I am just beginning to realize I will never be able to see you again. Its then, in the darkness of the room that the reality strikes. I know you are in my heart, my mind and every fiber of my body, but for years you have always been no further away than at the end of the phone and more recently in the same room as I.
They, almost anyone, tells me time makes all the difference. Others wonder why I still mourn. Thankfully others, especially here–those I have on my blogroll, give support and patience. If they only knew you, I think your reaction to death and the way you handled the times in your life when you lost someone close, would present a much different scenario than I am living. But, there are significant differences in the way that we see ourselves and life. You never had a mother or other person like you. You provided me with stability and strength, but more importantly consistency in love. You only had yourself to depend upon early in life and that helped you Momma, whereas I have had you as my anchor and now I float, still trying to find just the right place to light.
When Sherry and I were at your grave arranging the flowers I waited as long as I could to talk to you. Finally, as you saw, I just laid on the new sod and started talking, just as I always did. Momma, the sod was like grass letting me see you clearly, yet also as I looked up and to the horizon I felt you there and knew you were watching from far away. Its strange, but Sherry can’t face you are not here and refuses to enter into grief. The day you talked with her to watch out for me comes to me all the days since you left. She never visits, nor calls. Just like when you were here Momma, nothing changes much.
Momma, I shall miss you always. I shall never stop talking to you. I shall be with you again one day and then this chapter of my life will be laid to rest. It is my belief, only mine since you know we have a couple atheist around, that I will see you in Paradise. If I didn’t have that belief I don’t think I could make it through the days.
I bid Ciao for now, send you my love and now I shall end this letter like every letter you ever wrote to me.
the sun was bright, the air not so chilly.
I thought I might be to sad to be with you dear one,
yet when I was there I felt you with me and all was okay.
Finally, I sat upon the sod over your casket,
at first it was cold and damp and then warmed by my memories.
As I laid by you I felt I was lying on a clear glass mat of glass
and there you were within my sight and within my reach.
Tears fell from my eyes and down my cheek,
not lonely tears, just tears knowing you were just below.
Below and then also above me to the place beyond our Rainbow Bridge,
I could see your sweet, small face and pat your cheek once more.
Time passes now and stretches out before me
painting a picture of bygone and future times to be.
Hues of now and tints of then–tertiary memories
and analogous, glowing colors within my heart as I stretch my hand to you.
Down through the glass, up beyond and on to the heavens,
my hand stretches out to touch the softness of your cheek.
My eyes peer down to you while my hand stretches upward
and as I do, I see you smile through the glass and from far above my hand feels yours.
A day, a time, a trip. Is that what others may call our time?
Hardly, I think, little one. For the day to me and hopefully for you
was a day well spent in the meaning of faith, memories and bonds.
It was again a day together and the time was for me to say “One Day, My Little One.”