Roses

My mother's name was Rose, and I saw her in my mirrored reflection this morning. I saw her large blue eyes and a hint of her smile, and the ache was almost more than I could stand. I don't just miss her. My heart cries out from an empty place I can't quite describe.

We shared a birthday, she and I. On the day she celebrated her 24th , I virtually leapt into her arms. She held my tiny body close to her heart and created a connection that will never be broken. I think I've cried more over her loss in the past year than I did the first year she was gone, likely because life has been hard for me in many ways and not having her there to run to, talk to, cry to is nothing short of an injustice. Whoever said life isn't fair must've known how this would feel. It's been just over two years since she left us, and while sometimes it seems a much longer time, it often seems like just yesterday.

A few days ago my family and I visited the gravesite of our daughter, Heather Rose, on what would have been her 18 th birthday. We tucked a birthday balloon under the corner of her headstone, brushing away accumulated dirt and debris and murmuring over how her little section of the cemetery has changed over the years . I still remember exactly how it felt to approach that spot the day of her funeral and see such a tiny little box. It just seemed way too small and sweet to be buried in the ground. I tried not to think about the fact that my precious little girl was inside. We sang the happy birthday song, our voices trailing off near the end as the tears came. We held each other for a while and cried. As we walked away I glanced back over my shoulder and whispered, “Please, Mama, hold her for me. Hold each other for me.”

Two losses, a generation above and below me, and I am left here in the middle grieving for each.

My daughter, Rosie turns 13 this Mother's Day. I watch with love and gratitude as she dances and smiles and sings. I see her sister in her eyes and her grandmother in her smile. I see them, and I see me, and I see the past, present, and future all together in one beloved face. I marvel at her beauty inside and out and thank God for the blessing of being her mama. I hold her close to my heart and create a connection that will never be broken.

Contact Lisa at: photoartist@cfl.rr.com