I was rereading this book recently for about the fifth or sixth time and I thought, you know, I need to share this because if it means so much to me, it may to someone else! I read this book when it first came out in 2008 simply because one of my favorite authors, Max
depression
To all the Mamas.
Today is not about my Mama but another, one whom I felt a need to write about for my own heavy heart if for no other reason. I watched this mother at the funeral of her baby boy, a young man, but still her baby boy. It was an amazing gift of grace from God
Gone too soon.
This morning as I let my tall baby boy (almost 16) out in the car rider circle at school, I watched him walk up that sidewalk and it took all I had to not run after him for one more hug. I cried and cried after I pulled off. I cried as my heart
Welcomed silence.
The lonely days I felt even when I wasn’t in the room alone…
Permanence…
I walked in the back door like I always do. It was early one morning recently, before the sun had risen, and there he was…. sitting at the table. He never does that. It almost scared me. The words we’d all felt losing Mama seemed to be captured in that one little moment sitting at
Mama’s Shoes.
Mama’s been gone a while now and as many of you can relate, it seems like ten years and it seems like last week. Since she passed, we slowly but surely have gone through things of hers which never gets easier. It’s funny what you learn about someone, even those you’ve loved your whole life,
Bus Trip to Healing.
279 days ago, Mama went to heaven. Part of me wanted to run behind her and part of me left with her. Alzheimers did all it could to take from us, and yes, it succeeded in taking two things most precious ~ Mama and her memories. But she won in the end by gaining back
Little Notes.
Caroline’s birthday is next week and so odd it’s timing. I opened a journal this morning I’d not used in a while and in it was this note Mama had written herself obviously as a little reminder we needed to or were taking Caroline out on June 23rd. The odd squiggly lines around it, so
The Bouquet.
I share this here so I can keep it with memories I’ve kept of Mama. I wrote it a few nights ago, a short time before she left us. I was watching her breath, her little heart struggling, and I was trying to envision her journey as she left us here and went to heaven. Daddy
Mama and Little Debbie.
My Mama was a great cook, she just never wanted anyone in the kitchen “under her feet” when she was cooking – that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it. Seriously though, Mama worked full-time as long as I could remember and came home tired and just wanted to get supper on the table. At
Linda’s Lipstick.
Last night, Mama and I made our usual route around the big metropolis of Mebane…
