the passing

She was part of my childhood.
Her death brings me back to those days of wearing a flower dress searching for an easter egg in her backyard,
washing dishes to impress her, and breaking one.
Of the water ring toy machine, in which you pushed a button and it made the rings swim upwards, trying to get them land in the correct spot.
Of the other mazes she had for us on her shelf, high above us.
Of her fascinating delicate items from her travels, i was never able to touch.

It brings me back to those afternoons being warned in the car on the way to her house to behave,
it brings me back to those nights in which the freeway lights zoomed past as i feel asleep to my dad behind the wheel and a belly full of her stew or lasana.
It brings me back to those never ending christmas gifts, the ribbons the trees the decorations, the fireplace and her warmth.
The pjamas that i will never get again from her.
Her big hugs and smiles and humming as she sorted through papers or washed dishes.
it brings me back to her stories, funny, and about an embarrising time and lessons on how not to let others influence who you are.

I wonder how much of my personality, my traits are from her.
I wonder how often she thought of me as I grew up and away.
I wonder if I wasnt close enough.

I remember her happily sitting in her chair watching others open gifts or eat, her joy in having us there was always apparent. she was a generous loving, always giving woman.
Her giggles about Gerry, her light humor and manner.

Her wisdom.
Her love.

I wonder if she is here with me now. I had left my spirituality so long ago, but with this pain I cannot accept to not believe she is here with me. Her presence is watching me, talking to me. She is happy being with us. She will continue to watch us. She will see us grow following her lessons and hopefully her generous way of always loving. And to bring humor with us in life.

a passing like this takes time for her to float away, her spirt is with me.