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The Day She Died

February 19, 2011 will be the anniversary of the death of my mother. I find myself always needing to revisit that long night and early morning right before she transcended.  Its the last moment when I touch her. 7 years have drifted past and yet time hasn't moved. I can cry as if the moment is being relived right in front of me. She left.  She moved on.  She knew we would be fine. She knew in her death I'd gain strength.  She knew I'd never fear anything again.  My mother died. I was there when the last breath came and went.


I am motherless.  Spiritually, I know my mother is ever present.  She responds to my call as all the ancestors do but her laughter was healing and is missed. She was loud.  She was passionate.  She was a giving soul and loved until it hurt. She was magic. I miss it all.  I miss her getting on my nerves with corny jokes. I miss her being mad at me because I didn't call her. I miss her loving me through all of my flaws and failures.  She made me believe I was the greatest.  I believed her.   But she needed for me to believe in ME.  I needed to be able to look in the mirror and love me without her working to convince me of something I should have known.  So she left so I can live. I understand Ma. I truly do.  I can't wait to hear you laugh and tell a corny joke. I can't wait to hug you again.


I think about the day she died constantly.  It was the day she gave birth to me.....again.

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I will never, ever, never, ever live in a box.


again.


If I can't be appreciated, celebrated, loved, and befriended with honestly and openly....with no conditions and controls.....then I can't be....for you.

I'm a good friend.  I'm a good person. I deserve good things from good people who really want to celebrate whatever connection I have with them....outside the box.


I'm free to be.