Twenty years ago today you quietly signed off. Twenty years ago, early on a Sunday (so fitting) morning you took your last breath and gave your last heart beat. Some days that feels like a long time ago but some days the pain of losing you makes it feel like right now.
None of us will forget how that day ushered in with such intense fog it was like the white robe of glory came and draped our world and somewhere above all that was a large gathering of birds pouring out the sounds of a long composed Requiem. It was breath taking.
Even more incredible was how that magnificent choir silenced themselves to pay reverences to your departure as you were taken from the house, carried down the front steps, wheeled across the front lawn beneath the trees and through the fog. Next came the crunch of tires over the gravel that made us painfully realize you were leaving the farm for the very last time and the gravity of us all standing behind, without you. One link of our family chain already bearing its void. Out of this somber moment and piercing stillness returns the incredibly powerful sounds of the Requiem! Mind blowing . . .
The following days we kept busy with planning and crowds. We selected music and food to best celebrate and reflect your life. We concluded your memorial service with a skillfully played organ rendition of the Hallelujah Chorus as we all stood together. At the cemetery we all watched as you were lowered into your final resting spot and the first shovel of dirt tossed. It was here the skies opened up and cried over us causing our tears to flow as one.
For me, Mom, this is when time began to stand still and everything became silent. I spent endless evenings watching many amazing sunsets and in my heart I knew you had to be a part of it. I sat and stared into the black night skies watching the moon surrounded by thousands of twinkling stars. There was always one star in the west shinning brighter than all the rest. In the middle of October Gary and I went on a long color tour up north. I looked out my window, tears spilling from my cheeks, knowing all those colors were hand picked just for me. Day after day the bouquet of beauty gave a touch of your spirit back Then came the holidays and I felt I had been hit with frost bite. . .
Finally in the following year you returned wearing your blue and white dress.Wearing your tan shoes you walked up to me on the driveway of the farm and paid a short but very pronounced visit. I was close to the barn and you came to me and simply said. " Rachel, you cannot go on like this. You cannot keep crying." That's all. That's all there was but I will never forget. I wanted badly to close my eyes and go back . . . stay right there in that moment. I wanted to hear more, I wanted our visit to last longer. Clearly deep within, I knew no matter how much more I could have gotten, it never would have been enough. Yet somehow, something gave way at that time and I began to hear sounds again and life slowly began to have direction and design.
Well, Mom, much has happened in our family over the past twenty years, but somehow, wither right or wrong, I believe you know all those stories. What I do know, without any convincing, is that your journey truly has just begun.
So for right now we sign off. We can no longer make memories together, but for the love that was, will be forever. Thanks Mom.
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