Memorial Day is always noteworthy for me and my girls. Next Thursday marks the third year of missing their father, my husband. So many thoughts run through my mind. The journey of loss takes on various emotions. The strongest feeling, at first, was emptiness. In a split second, I would forget he departed forever. I imagined things I needed to talk to him about when he got back home. My mind is realistic now. He's not coming back. There will be no more times of sitting on the porch swing together on the front deck staring at the moon and the stars. He would tell me all he knew about the majestic night sky. I have so much I wish I could tell him, like the excitement of seeing our oldest grandchild make a decision to follow Jesus and get baptized on Mother's Day! And our little Amy, 11 years old, I wish he could have seen her on stage receiving her induction to the National Honor Society. Our daughters have their own ...
I guess I'm like any daughter who, while enjoying an old photo album, finds that one sexy pose of her mom and shouts: "Way to go, Mamma! I found this photo and I loved it! I wondered: "What was on her mind during this pose?" "Was she thinking of my dad?" Or was she competing with girlfriends who strived to pose the most like a movie star--Ginger Rogers or Bette Davis? I will never know. It feels strange to see it. It seems out of character for her. My mom was anything but a super model; she was more in the "tomboy" category! She had high morals. I remember as a preschooler, bundled in a heavy winter coat, scarf, mittens, knit hat with a long braid on top, holding her hand as we walked in the snow to Gray's, the corner drug store. Mom found a Playboy magazine on the shelf. She pulled out her church badge and marched to the cash register and then asked to speak to Mrs. Gray. The elderly woman listened to ...