I’d come home from high school, and I’d often walk in to Motown blaring in the basement, and there she’d be, dancing away. Often doing the Mash Potatoe, or some other complicated thing I could never really master. My gawd, could that woman kick it.
Tomorrow is the anniversary of her death. All Hallows Eve, when the veil thins, is a time of year that contains such beauty and sadness for me. Both my sister and I have our years, when the veil of tears bring forth memories, and when we miss her just that much more.
Those late night talks, wine in hand. The way she said your name. The sound of her voice.
Married at 19, she told me just before she died, that all she had really ever wanted to be was a Mom. It was what she said she was most proud of, and what she loved most about life. She was a GREAT one too.
And not just to my sister and I, no, but to many of our friends. She would listen, never judged, and always gave good, sound, advice. And she cared…she always, always cared. Her love was unconditional, and as soon as you graced her home, you were made to feel welcome merely by her presence. I to this day just don’t know what it was…but she was the embodiment of Temenos…for her home was her sanctuary, her sacred ground.
I love you Mom. Miss you every single day.