Saturday, March 02, 2013

9/4/87

The journal entry I was meant to read.  The reason I felt compelled to read my mom's journal in six lines.

My mom's handwriting...

Talking about my Papa's cabin...

He had passed away late summer 1986 at 70.  He and my mother shared the same birthday... and technically for a short time, the same name (due to an error on the birth certificate). I remember my uncle Jim coming to our home in Amarillo to talk to my mom when it happened. I love my uncle Jim, always calm.  I cried because I didn't understand why I would never seem him again.  I remember driving to the cabin to spread his ashes.  George Strait's Amarillo by Morning was being played incessantly on the radio.

Mom signed the papers on the cabin.  It's sold. Glad she was able to sell it, but it really finalizes everything.  Wonder if one ever truly accepts the death of a loved one. (or is it just me?)

It's not just her.  It's me too.  I needed to hear from my mom that it is okay to still be sad. I needed her to say it was okay to not be over her death.  I needed to know that she also questioned her feelings... 

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