It has been 13 years since the passing of my mother, Charlotte. The pain of missing her continues to soften, and I am constantly reminded of the kindred spirit she was in my life. I miss her smile, her tender touch, her laugh, I even miss her smell. I know on some level she is still with me because she comes to me in the wind. This Morsel is in my loving memory for her.
A few days after she died, I found this poem which is an excerpt from Rosamund Pilcher's book September. In honor of my mom I wanted to share it with you.
I have only slipped away into the next room. Nothing has happened. Everything remains exactly as it was.
I am I, and you are you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged.
What we were to each other that we are still. Call me by the old familiar name.
Speak of me in the easy way, which you always used. Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me, and pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was.
Let it be spoken without effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it. Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same as it ever was. There is absolute and unbroken continuity. Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner. All is well.
I will always miss her. I know that is the truth. It is one of the gifts that allows me to remember her.
Being Alive is and Art!
Barbara Krauss
The Centre for Experiential Immersion
