I wonder what she is aware of in our lives--Mom, did you see? Did you see I finished the baby shoes? You started them--your sewing was so nice. And I came over that one day last fall and we tried to figure out the next step--and we couldn't. And then, the week of your last surgery, I spent 2 hours on that step--and figured it out. I showed you when you came home and you were happy for me and told me to finish them for my baby. But we never got the chance to sit down together and finish. So I waited. And now that Candy is 3 months old, those shoes will fit her, so I spent an afternoon in your quiet, empty house missing you and finishing those shoes.
So on days like that, I try to slow down a little. I try to look--really look at my children and my husband and love them a little more fiercely because losing Mom drives home the point that life is short.
I'll spend time looking through picture after picture. I love to see her smile. I love to see her with my children. They love it too. We talk about her. And she seems a little closer then.
Then we watch the "Granny videos"--picture montages made by my sister and set to music. There is one from the ovarian cancer race my Mom walked in last May. There is one my sister made her for mother's day. And there is one from our last few weeks with her. Megan and Brooke LOVE to watch them. In one of them, there is a video clip of Mom in the hospital the day after her 5K and she waves at the camera, and never fail, Megan and Brooke wave back. And my heart aches, and I am teary, and my girls gather around me and hug me and after a little while, we get back to the day.


