Labor Day weekend 2011, we released her to one of our family’s favorite places in our world, up at the Lakes. Tonight, I revisited my journal of that day.

Late morning, early afternoon…“While people were futzing around getting ready for Mom’s ‘goodbye’, Cindy asked me: “Do you have days…?”  I hesitate, unsure, “Do I have days…what…?” “When you really miss Mom.”  We both choke, “I find myself crying at night.” “I miss her right now.” “Me too.” We hold one another and cry in our mutual feeling of missing something vital in our lives, cry for what is lost.

Late afternoon…“Even the sky is melancholy as I sit on the pier in my attempt to be alone. But there she is; Mom she’s over there. I gaze out to where I think the spot is, knowing that even if I could physically return to the very spot where we released her, she is not there. The water laps at the poles of the pier, murmurs of ripples whisper quiet, comfort, peace, release.“

I still miss Mom, sometimes I cry for no reason only that I miss her. But I also rejoice for her. Not only is she no longer suffering or living only half a life. I know without a doubt that she is in a place of joy and love and gladness surrounds her.  All is well.