Mother is Here

Yesterday, as I drove across town,  my mind wandered. I remembered a long ago conversation among family members and then hit a blank. I was missing a piece of information that Mom would know. My instinct was to call her and have her set the story straight, fill in the missing names.
But Mom can no longer take the call or tell the story. Mom died almost a year ago on October 10.  My sister Kate and I were there within minutes of her passing.  We saw the color in her hands before they turned waxy white and we knew she was truly gone.
Mom has been strangely with me for days now. I've found myself making short comments, voicing opinions and then thinking, "That was Mom's turn of phrase." and  "Those words were Mom's." Have I been channeling her or simply feeling her presence. I am beginning to miss her profoundly.
Since Mom died, every time a crow sweeps through the air, calling, watching, I know she's around. "There's Mom," I'll say to whomever I am with.
I am finally getting it. I miss my mom, that smart intelligent woman who fought for us, who said we could do anything, who loved us forever. Until dementia whittled her away, I could always pick up the phone and call to share a triumph, ask a question about English grammar, to check ingredients for an old recipe or question who said what in a long ago conversation. She always answered the phone with a voice that expressed joy and surprise, "Well, hi, Mary Margaret."

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