I am reposting this for the hundredth time today, because I am in need my mother's love. Some days I feel her arms around me, and can almost hear the whisper of her voice…if I listen very, very carefully.
Her Name was AnnaBelle...
I’m getting really good at not thinking about you. In fact, sometimes I go many days without remembering the fact that you’ve been gone for over 25 years now.
However, when I saw on the news that Natasha Richardson had died - the very same way you did, it shook me to the core. I remember when you fell in your kitchen, and had a terrible headache that night. They sent you home from the ER, and the next day you lost your sense of taste. On your next trip to the ER, they kept you and put you in ICU after discovering that hematoma at the base of your skull. You didn't want anyone cutting into your head, and convinced them to try to dissolve it with medication. It wasn’t many days after that we lost you.
You were 48 years old.
So, forgive me if I allow myself a little moment tonight to think about you.
I miss your incredible sense of humor.
I miss the way you would pretend to be on sit-up number 50 in the living room when I would walk in.
I miss the way you would pee your pants from laughing so hard on the phone with your closest sister, Aunt Shirley.
I miss the smell of fresh baked sour-dough bread.
I miss the way you would scream in horror in the middle of my beam routines in gymnastics. I knew it was you.
I miss the way you would scream at me when I talked back to you and never did anything you said. (And now I can totally relate.)
I miss the way you always made me feel special, valuable, intelligent, beautiful and strong.
Mostly, I just miss you.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m thinking I need to go back to Starbucks and let the girl at the drive-in window know the reason I was crying when I picked up my coffee today.
I caught myself off-guard with some tucked away memories.