There was always a certain grace about her. A manner in which she held herself that said she loved us–even while in the act of tanning our hides.

Most of us never understood her and what little she would share came forth as though pulled from beneath a mountain. Spoken in quiet words with bitter tears. She was my mother.


In just over two short weeks. we will bury her earthly remains–setting to rest my father’s heart that her ashes would be taken from him and scattered against his wishes. I believe his knowledge that he will spend the days until the Return with this love of his life–the only one he ever wanted, will bring peace and healing to his soul.

I made photos for the 5 kids and grown granddaughters today. I now need to find a colour photocopier to reverse and then make a few copies to transfer the image of 16-year old Mom to the small wooden coffin that will hold her cremains box, any memorabelia, and, flowers.

Tomorrow I will buy handles, get my electric staple gun back from the young man I lent it to, and visit a florist to see if I can arrange for lily-of-the-valley and a rose or two.


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