Cherished Time

In my heart and mind I do the things I wish I still could:

I close my eyes and lay my head on mom's shoulder while sitting next to her. She rolls her head over and there we sit in calm silence, just being together.

Her love language was quality time. I took me until my mid to late 20s to figure that out.

Interestingly enough that's my dad's love language too.

To make them both feel loved, I'd spend every Sunday after church with them until 10 when I'd drive over to my apartment.

With love language tanks full, we were ready for another week.

I miss those days, but am so grateful for all of them.

There's nothing I wouldn't give for a lazy Sunday afternoon with them.

Grief Journaling

Grief, Part 1

I cry for all the time I've lost with you.

All the memories I have to make without you.

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The person who loved me most and best is gone.

Without her I don't feel whole, myself, or fully loved.

I miss her so much that it's hard to breathe.

Homecoming

I think about what your homecoming to heaven was like.

I imagine you humbly laying a beautiful gold, bejeweled crown with intricate design at the feet of Jesus and hearing, "well done, good and faithful servant...enter now into the joy of your King."

I imagine you smiling with your bright eyes.

I imagine you eagerly greeting friends and family with a hug.

I imagine three of the happiest golden retrievers; our Franky, Max, and Riley following you around with wagging tails. I imagine you saying, "my boys!"

I imagine how free from the tether of an oxygen machine you are, walking and breathing with ease.

I imagine your hands outstretched and your eyes closed praising Jesus as you sing your heart out with the great heavenly choir.

I imagine you free from pain, cancer, lung disease, medicine, and doctor's appointments.

I find peace in knowing you're pain-free in heaven with God.

I will always miss you and can't wait until I see you again.

I love you, momma!