My mom passed away yesterday. She was just shy of 101. Tomorrow would have been my dad's birthday. I can't escape the feeling that she was finally ready to join the gang in the after life and celebrate her husband's birthday once more (and I realize all the illogic behind that notion, but still). That was a long life. She was born during the first World War, lived through the second (spending eighteen months in the Navy), raised five kids, had a marriage that lasted over 60 years until my died passed, was fluent in two languages, enjoyed coffee and cake and loved to chew gum. She was curious, observant and was blessed with a functional mind until the end. It's weird to think she's gone. But she does live on in our memories and I know a little bit of her is in me.
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