I’m feeling like a daughter, finding my way home.
Intertwined and pain. How can any of us know what’s in front of us?
I looked around yesterday at my mom’s house. Everything is in place. Seems to never change even a little.
Yet seismic changes have swept in on the wind.
Dad is gone. Is mom leaving? We don’t yet know.
Preparing for inevitable. Lonely journey indeed.
In a very real way,she feels like home to me. My house and children are home, but not the home in my mom.
A mom’s pat as I cried yesterday in church on Father’s Day, my mom’s comforting hand on me was home, familiar, sure.
Although I know home is always right inside us, I’m afraid to lose her. So lately we have been remembering, recalling and telling memory stories to each other. Practicing. Comforting.
Our shared experiences help to find our way there…back home. As near as telling each other the stories.