Seven Months

It's been seven months since I lost my mom. Sometimes it feels like seven years. Other times it feels like seven minutes. Always, I miss her. I can't look at her picture for long because it makes me cry. Even writing this causes me to press back at what wants to rise up.

My goal is to nurture a heart of gratitude for an end to the constant pain she was in, like my dad does. Like I told him though, he's a bigger man than I. It's at least my goal anyway. Sometimes there are sparks of it. I was looking at a picture of Brett with a humongous pack on, and the look on his face is painful to witness. I was glad she never saw it; it would've broken her heart. When Dad pulled his hamstring, she would've hurt for him for days.

It pulls at me to know that my dad is lonely. He seems WAY too dependent on Raymie for company. Yes, Mom talked to him a lot, and he has a big vocabulary for a dog, but he's something like 8 or 9 years old, and the day will come..... He has an enlarged heart that Dad gives him medication for, but it's just so scary that he puts SO much stock in an animal he will indeed lose.

Some mornings I wake up and remember that she died and think, Oh, yeah, it's true....... I know it'll take time. I know it won't always be like this, just like it won't ever be like it was. In the meantime, I hope to honor her life and give God the glory just like Dad does.