A letter for Mom...

Dear Mom,
It has been one year since we last spoke. Actually, it has been exactly one year and one day since we last spoke. I remember the last thing you said to me. You were getting out of bed and I asked you where you were going and you said, "I I don't know. I will go wherever you want me to go." You made me laugh. At such a sad time, you made me laugh. I miss your humor and wit. You were funny. We were funny together. Bri and I miss teasing you. Actually, we still razz you,but we miss hearing you say, "You're so mean to me."

Soon after you were gone and we were sorting through your things, we teased you. We pulled outfit after outfit from your closet and giggled that almost everything was rust-colored and made of linen. You sure loved your linen. And, the shoes, the SHOES~ so many and so cute. I still stroll through the shoe department, spy a great pair with ankle straps and a bow, and think to myself, "Mom would LOVE these!" I kept your red heels~ the ones with the leather bow and gold trim. They are a little small, but so worth the squeeze. I also kept your election buttons. I love them. I've added a few to the collection and plan to pass it down to my kids one day. I sure wish you were here for all the election coverage. You would love it!

Dad is hanging in there. He sure misses you, though. He has hung some beautiful pictures of you around the house. You would be proud of his homemaking skills. We laugh that, now that he is retired, he hangs out at Target everyday like the rest of us moms. The kids really miss you. Elle was playing on her toy cell phone yesterday. She said, "Call Grandma. Grandma died, but try to call her." They miss you so much, especially Max. He really feels your absence. But, I think you know that. He tells me about his conversations with you. Keep talking to him. He needs it. Can you come talk to me in my dreams? I am trying to be patient. I know you will come soon.

We are all trying to go on with our lives like nothing has happened. But, it is hard. I still pick up the phone once and a while to call you. I miss our late-night phone calls. I miss Sunday shopping. I miss coming into your house and seeing you cozy in your chair reading a magazine. I visit the cemetery sometimes. I never understood people going there for their loved ones until you passed away. I really do feel closer to you there. Maybe it is the silence. Maybe it is your name engraved on the wall. I talk to you while the kids play on the grass behind me. I will keep coming.

I know today marks one year, but it feels like just yesterday that you left us. It is overwhelming to think that we will one day mark a fifth anniversary, a tenth anniversary, and then a twentieth anniversary. I cannot imagine such a huge amount of time passing without hearing your voice and seeing your face. I miss you, Mom. I wish you were sitting right next to me now correcting my punctuation and grammar as I write. I am going to say goodbye now, but I will talk to you soon.

Meet me this afternoon at the stone bench at the cemetery. I'll bring you flowers...in your favorite fall colors.

I love you,
Sara

*Thank you, Maile, for the gorgeous flowers. My home smells amazing!