I miss her so
And yet, I connect with her
Every time I touch a flower...
When I read the classics
Engrossed in the pages of Lorna Doone...
When I breathe in the pine scented air
Of the hills of Lebanon,
The land that she loved...
When I sing the alto part of the hymns she adored
Trying to fit my voice to her glorious one....
Teaching me how to follow the notes
“It is Well with my Soul.”
When tears spill out of my eyes
In sympathy for another....
Her sensitive soul pouring out from my eyes
When I tease my students and hug them tight
Trying to make them fall in love with words...
The well loved teacher
When I write my little rhymes...
Still believing I'll be famous one day
When I drop something and it shatters...
Worrying that the same disease
Will touch her only daughter
And turn her life to hell
When I look at my black hair
Beginning to show the white
Thick and luxuriant...
With a knowing smile
Happy she’s passed on her
Her crowning glory to me
Between the lines of the poems I write...
Her romantic heart beating loudly
She’s in me
How I wish you knew her
Before she was ravaged by disease
Before her spirit was crushed
And her smile became lopsided
And yet she didn't stop smiling
Or reaching out to touch a loved one
But I had to hear her pray for death
The confines of the wheelchair too much
Unable to care for herself
Having to have my father bathe, change, and feed her
Too much for the free spirit that she was
The one who had climbed trees while pregnant
And smiled at the sun
I tried to heal her
I prayed and I begged
Testing my faith
"In the name of Jesus...."
No healing came
No cure for MS
And I hid my tears, crushed
That this vibrant ray of sunlight
The one they called Sunshine
Wanted to leave my world in
I had to let her go
And it was only when I changed my prayer
And asked for His will to be done
That she fell asleep
And got the release she
I miss my MAMA
I’m crying tears she cannot see
For she is sleeping
Waiting for the wake up call
Of Jesus whom she adored
My heart bleeds for my MAMA
Life is unkind
To take her from me
But I’m my Mama’s girl
An extension of her heart and mind and soul
A helpless hopeless romantic
Who loves the rain
And the wind in my hair
And Little Women
I Thessalonians 4:16 - 18