If we were having coffee today Mom it would be wonderful! It would be 13 too long. Everyday I miss you, more so on days like today. Joshua had to go to his great-aunts funeral, and we drove him to Petrolia. The death was on his dad’s side.
On the drive out we chatted about how I’d like my funeral to be. Jokes about bottom side up for parking the bike, to glass top casket with me naked and everyone attending coming as they were born.. nudge, they would all be naked too. It lightened the mood. You gave me a sense that life was about living, and I’d like to think I’ve passed that along your grandchildren.
Then we got onto the topic of the day of your funeral. It was a great day. You were always the joker, and even on that final day we let you do it your way. We said good-bye on that cold November day, which also happened to be your birthday. It seemed so fitting.
We had cake, balloons, and even sang “happy birthday” over your grave. You gave us so much in life that death isn’t that scary of a thing. Sadly even with all the rejoicing the pain didn’t stop.
Days like today I reflect back on those final few years we had together, and see so much more. I wish we could have coffee so I could say how sorry I was for some of the things I had done. At 47, I now understand some of what you were trying to impress upon me.
It’s too late to say the words I want to now, but I write them out. To release the guilt, the pain I carry, and to say “I’m sorry” the only way I can. You were the best mom I could have had. I wish we could have coffee again.