Three years ago today my mom passed away.
Mom and I were so close that I had assumed I would sense her presence. People tell me she is with me and I nod in response, but on the inside, I am disappointed not to feel her with me. I assumed I would given our strong bond.
Last week when I made my return to her beloved beach for the first time in almost four years, I found myself spouting mom-isms that seemingly popped into my head and out of my mouth with no forethought or hesitation. Sayings and expressions that I hadn’t thought of since she’d gone.
Now I realize that she’s not hovering over me with her angel wings fluttering. She’s IN me. She is my heart and my soul and my comfort and my joy and my sorrow and my memories and my laughter and my tears and my stubbornness and my love and my patriotism and my worry and my strength and my compassion and my thoughtfulness and my kindness and my love of sports and books and the beach.
Three years to the day that her time on earth was through, I finally get it. Coincidence? Not a chance in Heaven.
