This morning I had no intention of being reminded.

Of getting drawn backwards in time.

I hadn’t thought this way in a while, I’d finally crossed the finish line of acceptance in that long race called grief.

Like a runner crossing that line, arms thrown towards heaven, acceptance was well-earned.

But, I got pulled in, read a few lines and my eyes rested in a place of raw truth.

The words, written about a mother missed.  Shared by David Kanigan, a thoughtful blogger, writer, sharer and follower. I only skimmed it, the piece he shared. I stopped, still in this truth, captivated by the expression.

It’s been three years now since my mother’s death, and I’m still wondering why I haven’t spoken with her in so long. Blair Hurley

more here:  http://lithub.com/my-mother-is-gone-but-her-edits-remain/

And they were so true, her words so sad, such a validation that I carried them all day long, thinking

“It’s true, how I long to talk to her. How it seems I should be able.”

Later, it occurred to me “not too many people live as long as I have without my daddy here or my mama.”

My daddy, 17 years.

Mama, almost 7.

Reminded of loss,  but moved by another’s understanding. Changed for having read the honest and unexpected words of another.

Oddly, I found myself happy over her admission, her honesty as if we’d talked and she and I agreed…yes, I know, I know!

Grief is such a juxtaposition of sorrow and sweet, I’ve decided.

Such sorrow over our lack of ability to change it, such sweetness over our retelling and remembering.

A sadness kept silent, yet relieved in finding the perfect expression of another.

So, I carried my sadness lightly today; I’m sure no one noticed, like an all day reminder saying  “yes, but….” .

That was the state of my heart.

It was there all day, hung around, popped up when things got quiet.

Intermittent longing for my mother.

Good things happened today…conversations, smiles, friendships and tasks completed.

Still, at day’s end I felt the longing again.

Decided not to walk the dog.

Too tired, too late, too unmotivated.

Then, felt the pull. The sky, the birds and end of day pull towards God. It happens this way…decide not to walk, go anyway and it happens every time. God sends me some beauty.

Geese overhead, puffy clouds and a rainbow with no rain. A sky filled with soft clouds beckoning me to rest, to be at peace.

No one will understand unless they may have been there…

Country night, dusky sky and we look toward the water, my grandfather’s pond and in the distance we hear them.

Mama says, “Here they come.”

And they do, the geese, v-shaped silhouettes against evening sky.

They did and I mouthed her expression,  “Here they come.” pointing towards the sky hoping she could see.