The voice has been silent for a month now.  The muscle we all tend to use most each day, the tongue, has been replaced with stillness.  Persistent, thoughtful listening and watching for a sign remains a daily quest.

Some things in life cannot be fixed but only carried with the help of others.  As Emily Dickinson remarked, “I find it shelter to speak with you,” yet this is no longer an option in person.  You continue to share how nothing is wasted in this life.  Grief, pain, and sorrow enlarge the capacity for compassion, growth, and healing.  You continue to bring light into the cracks of a hurting heart although it comes from another realm beyond comprehension.

Perhaps it is true how we never really feel like an adult until our mom crosses over…a truism I’m learning to accept all too well these days.  Until her last breath on this Earth, momma continued to share her voice, to teach, to sing, to heal, and to trust because her heart held what her mind could not.

Your voice remains because you are with me always.  You’re the whisper of the leaves and flowers as I hike in fields of gold.  You’re the smell of certain foods and fragrances in daily life.  You’re the cool hand of peace passing over me or the warmth of assurance when I’m struggling at any given time.  You’re the sound of the rain lulling me to sleep and the colors in the rainbows I seek.  You live in my laughter, sarcasm, tears, and JOY.  You’re the place I come from, my first home, and the road map I continue to follow along life’s journey with each step taken; yes, momma, your voice remains…

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