The thing about moms is- there aren’t always a lot of pictures of them. They’re usually the one taking the pictures. It was no different with my mom. Lots of things were different about my mom- but I know she did love me- very much.
And she loved my sister and my brother.
But perhaps even more, she loved our father.
So, just a month and a day short of four years after his death, she joined him.
While we had almost a year of saying goodbye to Dad, Mom’s final take-off seemed to collapse into a one, short week. In a way, we’ve been saying goodbye to her for years, maybe even for all of our lives. For some people the world is just too much- too loud, too demanding, too busy to nurture a shy, fragile, brilliant girl.
When Dad launched I knew he was happy to be on his way to a new adventure. But with Mom, I’m not so sure. There weren’t as many signs. She was gone before we knew it- struggling and laboring for days and then, with a small, quick, exhalation, gone.
