October 24, 2015

Reflections of a Daughter’s Undying Love.


When I think about two years, it seems like a long time.

In a two-year span 730 sun sets will happen, the green leaves on the trees will turn to the crisp orange of fall twice and the moon will turn vibrantly full using its light to kiss the earth more times than I wish to count.

In the last two years millions of moments have happened. For me the last two years have been filled with moments of triumph, pain, joy and change. No matter how many moments have passed in these last few years it only seems like seconds since the last time my eyes gazed upon your resting face.

There are times when I miss you like the dry cracked earth misses the rain during a drought. At other times I feel comforted by the fact that I know that one day we will meet again, often your presence hanging over me like a rainbow in the sky. Our souls will undoubtably to be connected again when I reach my final resting place.

In two years from this day it will be four years and in four years it will be six, but time has no effect on my memory of you. Your soft and gentle hand drenched in the smell of Nivea cream reaching down to gently touch my back on my first day of kindergarten is one of the memories that stay fresh and clear within my soul. These memories being similar to a clear and beautiful bubble that not even the sharpest edge in this world could break through.

The thing is you thought you had time and so did I . Four years ago from today I would have never thought that you wouldn’t be here in person to rejoice in my eight year old son’s accomplishments. I would have never thought that at Christmas dinner the sounds of your red wine induced laughing would not be there to light up and fill the room. Your laughter being much more distant now like music notes from a old song dancing within my head. I would have never thought that the number you drilled in my head as I entered grade school to ensure I could always call home, would be a number that is no longer in service. This will be a number that I have known for the greater portion of my life and a number that in no matter how millions of moments that are to come, I will never forget.

As my mother, of course, there are many things that you taught me: kindness, compassion and understanding for others on this planet we call home. You taught me how to tie my shoes, how to braid my hair and taught me how to become a mother myself. Through every stage of our life together you filled my moments with valuable lessons that helped to shape me into the woman that I have become.

The day of your passing I remember holding open the old screen door that just a short time before you cursed at for its inability to stay shut. This time was much different then the other times I had held the door open in the past, it was not to wave goodbye or for you to give your grandchildren a hug; I held the door open for the funeral home to take away your now lifeless body.

My very last memory of you, is your soft and thin blonde hair poking out between the zipper of the black body bag. This was a moment where all time stopped. I was not concerned about what was to come or what had happened in the past; I was fully present as the car carrying your body disappeared down the dark street.

The thing is most of us think we have time, time in the future to do what we want, time to wait… but really life is a series of moments—most being unpredictable. You can never can really know how much time you have or what’s going to happen next. Your passing left me with one of the most valuable lessons of all, and that is the understanding that living life to our fullest potential each and every moment is so important.

It’s easy to get wrapped up in waiting for moments to come. Waiting for your next paycheck, for a vacation to come, to meet the love of your life or your kids to grow old. Waiting can distract us from the moments that are happening right now, like hug at the old screen door or a gentle pat on the back on the first day of school. It is in the simplest of moments that the greatest memories are created, memories that are as clear as a bubble and unable to be popped by the outside world.

There are many moments that have happened in the last two years and I only hope in those moments I have grown to become closer to a woman like you—a woman of great dignity, a woman of kindness, a woman of inspiration and most of all a damm good mother.


Relephant read:

Coping with an Untimely Death.


Author: Bianka Nash

Editor: Travis May

Photo: Author’s Own

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Bianka Nash