This is a picture of my mother's living room, right after she passed away. If you click on the picture it will magically become larger and clearer. The coffee table was her pride and joy. The base is from the large dining room table she got when I was a child. About 30 or so years ago she had the table top removed, and transformed the base into what you see here. The glass on top is nearly four feet by five feet, and 3/4-inch thick.
Tomorrow movers will deliver the coffee table, and the sofa, and several other large pieces of antique furniture which cost a fortune to move up here, but with which I could not bear to part and which my sister had no room for. Also arriving will be boxes and boxes of books, all dealing with Christianity, all bequeathed to my son.
It has been a rough day in the grieving department. I know where she is, and I wish I could ONLY dwell on that. I try....
About two years ago, I was talking with a person who had recently lost their mother, and whose father had passed many years ago. This person made the statement that they were now an orphan. I thought, how peculiar a thing to think or say. Lately though, I find myself thinking, I have no parents. I call out to my mother, inside my head. I say "Momma" over and over again. An odd little mantra. It comforts me.
I remember my mother telling me one of the toughest things about getting older is that you always seem to be losing someone close to you. Now that she is gone, I know exactly what she meant. I have felt a whole lot older since she died. I'm the elder now, and I don't want to be.