Today the tears freely flowed as I reminisced on my sweet mama. It was a vivid time that the two of us were together on the front porch. She had on her sunglasses, yet she was not coherent and had an accident she wasn’t aware had happened. I remember telling her that it was going to be okay and ran to get some pull-ups. She wanted her lunch from Sonic, a chili cheese dog. It wasn’t too long after that that she slipped away in a peaceful state. I knew and sensed it would be that day, on July 31, 1997, and it was in the latter part of the day. I had dressed her in a beautiful white sheer nightgown, and I held her until she took her last breath.
The longing had been towards her, yet today is the day my sweet niece Jacqueline passed away at the fighting age of fifty-one from breast cancer. Today, I realize I was making a connection with my ancestors. Their spirit was so strong that I felt the need to connect further.
Longing is like picking at a hangnail. I cannot stay there too long or can spiral into a great depression. I slithered into the memories like slicing a hot muffin and slathering it with butter, with the remnants of the drippings eventually running down my arm, causing me to lick my wounds. I am grateful that I can remember that I can always come back again, but I must move on.
As the day progresses, I find ways to stay in the moment by looking for those comforts, although small, like the center bulb of a flower—the flickering of a bumblebee seeking its honey. But for the grace, I get another day to marvel in the beauty of longing.
Gloryb2God58 