Cup of Spring
I found these sweet violets in the yard today while I was taking Janey outside. Their purple faces surprised me, all huddled together by the water hose. I gathered up a handful and placed them in my mom’s teacups to photograph them. This is just the sort of image she would have loved. Old teacups and flowers were two of her favorite things.
It seems grief is always with me these days. I try to ignore it sometimes. I tread water above my heart so that I do not have to feel all the feelings. It is just too hard sometimes to fully grasp that she is gone. I can hear her voice so clearly in my mind. The voice of my mother is embedded deeply in the fabric of my being. I loved her voice. It was lilting and happy- always so full of life. I loved the way her voice carried my name. “Ma-ry” came out more like a song than a name when she said it.
I miss her singing my name.
I told Chris it is a strange sensation when the person you were hoping to make proud passes away. All the things I did that I hoped she would somehow see or find, they seem to just float aimlessly now- seeking the her elusive approval.
Mom- I photographed the violets again this year. I miss you so.
These are for you. See you soon.
1 Thessalonians 4:14 ~”For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him.”
For You
Sweet VIolets
Poured Out