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Love You Forever and Always

Had a dream last night…I was waiting in my mother’s room for her – she was out somewhere.  Still at dinner in the dining hall?? Something. The room was quiet and dimly lit.  I had this sense of what she must have experienced so often (every day perhaps).  The stillness.  The quiet.  The loneliness.  Hard to imagine it day in and day out.  I looked up at her clock and it was after 8pm.  Suddenly I got worried.  Where was she?  Had she gotten confused?  Why wasn’t she back yet?  Should I go looking for her?

Then suddenly she appeared at her doorway.  Frail but not as frail as she had been near the end of her life.  I don’t think she was using a walker, as she had needed to after her 90th birthday, after cracking her head open the second time.  It was late, she was tired, and we agreed she needed to just get ready …

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Playing the Numbers Game

I have played the numbers game for years.  85. 68. 72. 91.  These numbers may not mean anything to most people, but for over half my life they were a measure of my own good fortune.  I would read in the newspaper that a woman died at age 72, and up until recently my mom was still alive at 90.  Ok…deep breath…we’re doing okay.

Now my mom is gone – and I have the audacity to feel cheated.  Living to 90 is having a good long run (and my mom certainly did).  In that respect she was blessed and I am thankful.  The fallout of having a child late in life, however, is that most people MY age have parents who are currently in their 60’s.  Assuming all goes well, they are looking at having their parents around for another 20-30 years!

I feel too young to have lost both parents – cheated out of years most everyone else my …

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The Bougainvillea Plant

*** Hope ***

My lovely bougainvillea plant died the same time my mother did.  Coincidence perhaps?  Not to me.  Most people know I share Wayne Dyer’s view that there are no coincidences in the universe. One might insist the plant died because we were in Europe for 2 weeks and not home to water and care for it.  But I saw it differently.

Where healthy green branches and vibrant colored petals had been, now there were only brown shriveled up sticks and crumpled paper leaves. Every time I crawled in and out of bed and looked out my bedroom window, I was reminded of death and loss, both on a simple and deeper level.

I had been so proud of that bougainvillea and how it had been flourishing.  In Southern California, bougainvilleas seem to grow all over the place.  I have always loved them – their beautiful colors, how they make me think of a tropical vacation and plenty of …

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