Today I wish I could call my mother and say hello, and tell her I love her. She is gone. I write now, and I realize she has only stepped ahead, joining my father, and my daughter Naomi. I have an impression of her great happiness . . . and this is what I can look forward to when I cross the threshold of this world to join them in the next.
I could have asked her much more about herself while she was alive. I know her childhood was eventful and traumatic—she was put in foster homes twice.
Mother never spoke resentfully of her childhood, rather in a matter-of-fact way, and with some happiness. I long for more stories and facts.
Thankfully, I have many wonderful memories of life with her. She bore five children and I am the oldest. For some reason, it is all flooding back . . . today is Mother’s Day.
I send her love and a bouquet of celestial flowers.