She was in her quilt that covered my exposed legs in the morning chill.
She was in the old woman who sat exhausted from a short walk.
She was in the game of war I played with a camper, her laugh in the back of my head as I remembered the hundreds of rounds of this game that her and I would play.
She was in my hair. It was sticky and hard from an impass with jello that I lost. I remembered how she use to spritz my hair with sugar water to make it stay in place. I had forgotten about that for many years, until my impasse today with jello.
She was in the sign that read "Lets Party!"
She was in my sisters blog.
And she was in my heart. As I showered and winded down my day, I though about how terribly I miss her voice. How I have seen her stuff, and smelled her smell... but I havn't heard her. I think I can in my head, but I miss her voice. Her laugh. Her sigh and whistle and hum.
Even though she showed up today, so many times. I still just wish she were here. Death is a stinky, dirty thing. One perhaps I shall never fully come to grips with. Because, although I could spend my day with her almost being there... I would rather have just had her here.
(From mama) Oh, my. Yes, indeedy. I love your words. Sometimes I still think to call her to tell her about something...or I think (imagine...wish) that I just heard her voice. Actually, I do hear her voice in my mind reminding me of things..."Watch your speed, Laurie," "Don't forget to water the flowers..." I also find myself saying some of her sayings such as "That's good enough," "Okie-dokie" What a treasure we had, what a treasure we are missing.
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