Friday, January 20, 2012


I am a motherless daughter. Now read that sentence again. I am a motherless daughter. The sentence seems to contradict itself. It is like it could not happen, how could a child exist without the mother. I know I could not exist without my beautiful daughters, I would have no will to continue without them. Not a day goes by where I don't think of my Mom. I only need to look down on my hands and I see her hands, my feet are her feet. Even the face that looks at me in the mirror is a shadow of her face. My voice the way it is raspy at times it echos her voice. My body is shaped after the one who made me.
To say my Mother was my best friend is an understatement. She was Mother, friend, confidant, counselor, and spiritual guide. She was always willing to listen and only gave advice when asked to. She never judged, always forgave and was forever loving the children God had given her no matter how much we often times did not deserve it. Now I am left without my compass, without the one person who I could depend on. (besides my husband) She was a gentle guiding force within my life and within our family.
So many times things have happened and my first instinct is to call her and ask for her thoughts on the issue. I stop myself and have to remember that she is no longer there. Is it wrong to ask God to tell her things? To hold her and tell her I love her? Sometimes when I pray I ask him to speak to her and I feel guilty about it, don't know why I feel that way but I do.
I am finding my way, an orphan wandering through life without a map, without a compass. I often think things would be different if she was healthy and alive but I stop myself from selfish thoughts and remember that she was not healthy for a very long time. Her last few months were so painful and she was so tired of fighting her disease. She remained a fighter for as long as she could but it must have been incredibly hard for her. I know she fought so hard because she didn't want to leave her children, her family. In the end it was me who told her it was okay to go when Jesus came for her, those were some of the hardest words I have ever spoken in my life. When she heard those words it woke her from a medically induced sedation and she looked deep into my eyes, her eyes grew soft and she squeezed my hand. My last hug from her was that hand squeeze.