The wave comes crashing in without warning.
A glance in the mirror and I see all of the gray hair I accumulated in the last few months....much like her hair.
Its very texture and the way it lays....just like hers.
Emotion starts to seep out.
My crooked right pinky...just. like. hers.
A tear falls...yet a smile appears.
The sound of her laughter...exactly like mine.
I am my mother's daughter...
there is no doubt.
Sometimes I have to stop to catch my breath as I speak or say a certain phrase, as if she's the ventriloquist and I am the doll moving my mouth but...
it's her voice I hear.
Seeing her winter coat, along with the rest of her clothes still sitting in the garage on top of boxes, just as I left them after bringing her belongings home from the nursing home last July.
I cry uncontrollably as I see the untouched pile, collecting dust and cobwebs.
I could not bare to go through them then...
I can't now.
I'm still not ready.
But they're just clothes, I remind myself.
But...
they're my mother's clothes.
I chuckle as I imagine her rockin' that size 7 robe she said she ordered long ago for when she got to heaven. 😉
So, really...it's all good.
Funny thing, though...being the one left behind.
I know she's never been happier.
Never been more joyful.
Never been more healthy.
No tears.
No fear.
She's with Jesus!
She's Home!
Glory!!!
But I miss her.
Living between this world and heaven.
Grief.
Crazy, unpredictable grief.
I think I need to wear a life jacket at all times...for when that wave comes crashing in again.
