Today is my parents’ anniversary. It is also the 18th anniversary of mom dropping her body and leaving the earth plane. My mom and I were close, speaking every day, never arguing, she was my best friend. I always thought I’d freak when she passed, which she did suddenly on April 8, 1996, of her first heart attack.  I didn’t freak.  I didn’t grieve.  I felt there was no separation.  I still don’t feel she’s missing from my life. I’ve ever been a sentimental person. I’ve never been family oriented. I am more a loner.  I love my family, but family life is not for me. In the two days between her heart attack and passing — which we did not know was going to happen —  she was heavily medicated and could not speak, yet managed to open her eyes very wide once in order to look me in the eye and let me know she was still in there.  I talked to her and I whisper-sang to her.  

Her lips looked dry and I asked if she wanted Chapstick.  She pursed her lips and I put the Chapstick on her.  It was the most holy moment I ever spent with her. I love you, Mommy! Have a good day floating on your cloud playing a harp or rocking in your chair on your porch with your cat Lady in your lap, whatever it is you’re doing Up There or Over There. I can’t say you’re missed because I know you’ve never left.

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