Time stood still the second I ran through the doorway & into my mother’s bedroom.
​I could hear my feet hitting the floor while I was running & my own heartbeat in my throat. 
The air had a hum about it, I can’t explain how surreal it all felt. It was silent all around as though the earth instantly froze & I was the only one moving. 

There she lay, cold & lifeless on her bed. 

I jumped to her side, and knelt beside her. 
My eyes see her & immediately fill with tears, my hands touch her arm, but my brain does not want to begin to formulate the reality of my senses. 
I threw my head into her chest. 
I kissed her cheek.

he 14 July, 2020 was the day I lost my Mommy. 

Something strange happens when your mom dies, I felt a deep part of myself become hollow. 
It happened instantly. 
There’s a gap. 
It’s like heartburn, but lower, it’s in your stomach. 

I’ve been through a Rollercoaster of emotions while dealing with her passing and facing my grief. 
I’ve also laughed at memories and had an overwhelming feeling of gratitude.

Gratitude for my parents & how hard they worked for us. Gratitude for my family that was, & the family I have today. My amazing husband, my beautiful children, My cherished, Edith, my friends who stand by my side & support me, & my loyal art students.  

My dear friend, Bronwyn & myself were packing away my mom’s books & I found a small, old, black & white photograph. (See her in the title image)
I studied it closer, but have no idea who I am looking at. 
My mom would know, because it was in her home, but she not here anymore to tell me. 
This bothers me. 
Something my mother kept, means nothing to me without her here, because I don’t know who this person is. So it’s convoluted you see, it’s not just my mom who’s gone, but everything she knew & didn’t tell me, is gone too. 

I bought the photo home. 
I sat alone with my coffee and stared at it. 
It occurred to me. 
In one hundred years we will all become just a photograph & the people of the future, not born yet, will not know who we were either. 
I hold in my hand, all that is left of this human being. 
What do I do now? Do I throw it away, or is that thought enough to cherish a strangers memory?
If all the photos are eventually discarded, how do the people of the past live on? 

This was followed by the next epiphany. 
Do we really live to our fullest potential? (I know, I know its vomit cliché) But, do we love enough, 
say enough, 
hold enough?

My friend of the land, Bronwyn once used the statement, “bitter & twisted”. I loved it so much, I instantly stored her adjectives to memory. 

Death makes you think. 
It made me think. 
You can become bitter & twisted, or, 
if you’re lucky, it humbles you to your knees.

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