Just A Little While Longer

Lately, I have been missing my mom more than usual. Maybe it's the fact that I am teaching and I remember how much she loved teaching, maybe it's because of my quicky-arriving marriage to a man who will never get to meet her, maybe because my sister is half way across the world from me and I never even hardly talk to her at all these days :-), maybe it's a combination of a lot of things. Whatever it is, sometimes I truly feel like I need to hear her voice more than anything. When people you love pass away, you remember and hold close strange things - things you didn't even think to pay attention to or take note of when they were sitting right beside you, living each day with you. Things I remember in detail are trivial, but they are things that are intangable, invaluable and are deep in my memory. I remember vividly the way her voice sounded as she sang at church on Sunday, how she tried so hard to sing alto and would announce to everyone proudly that although she could not, her girls could sing the alto line of any hymn in the hymnbook. I remember the way she smelled when she got all dressed up to go out with my dad and then how, when she got home again that night and came to whisper me goodnight, that same smell was accompanied by the lingering hint of whatever they had eaten that night. I remember, long long ago, the way it felt to be rocked to sleep in our old brown rocking chair - back and forth, back and forth as she softly stroked my arm and hummed sweetly. Although the days of and after her passing are a blur, I do remember the vivid details of the day before, as I laid in her bed with her before going to my own for the night. Had I known what was to come in the following twenty-four hours, I know I would have wished for those moments to last just a little while longer. I often think to myself how much I wish my own future children could know in this life, if even for a moment, the woman who I still love so dearly, the woman who I called my mom. As I was thinking, remembering, the other night, I sat at my computer and started typing out the scene, the story of my last moments with my dear mother. It isn't finished, or even close, but it is a start.

Just a Little While Longer
I breathed in deeply; my chest, hidden under layers of soft, familiar blankets, rising, then falling again. I snuggled in deeper, buried my face in her arm – she was so warm. One more day, I whispered into the darkness tenderly, knowing she would not respond. I followed her example and closed my eyes as I silently repeated to myself, one more day until three weeks free of snooze buttons or waking up before the sun had shown its face; one more day until Christmas vacation. The weeks prior had been never-ending it had seemed, packed to the brim, every moment carefully planned and thought out – there had been countless chores to get done, projects and finals to complete, and activities to plan before the whole family was to arrive for Christmas. Nothing but jovial chats and catching-ups over mugs of steaming hot chocolate and bowls full of fluffy white kettle corn awaited me on the other side of tomorrow. Knowing this was just enough to erase for the moment my fears of the two looming finals still awaiting me at school early the next morning. “Mom?” I sighed and without waiting for her reply continued, “Are you asleep?”