April 18, 1984

I awake in a bit of a fog, only slightly aware of the telephone ringing.  We got in late last night.  Long past our bedtime.  I can hear my father in the kitchen, his muffled conversation floating upstairs to my room.  It's just before 8.  We've slept in.  I'll have to rush to get ready for school this morning. 

My father slowly climbs the stairs and I turn to see him enter my bedroom.  He is tired and carries a strange expression on his face. 

He reaches my bedside and takes a seat.  He isn't looking at me, but out my bedroom window to the hillside and winding road.  When he faces me again tears have formed in his eyes.  He covers my hand with his and tells me my mother is gone.  His words get lost in a sudden release of grief.  I turn my head into my pillow, tears flowing.  I'm not completely certain of what he's said, I'm hoping I've misunderstood, but know I have not.  He sits for awhile on my bed and we both silently weep.  Without a word he gets up and leaves.

In those few moments a childhood is interrupted.  Picked up and turned on its head.  Forced to go in another direction.  In the coming days my world and that of my family will be different.  Conversations will cease when we walk into a room, quiet whispers spoken by curious peers, sad looks and tilted heads nodding their sadness in our direction.  A motherly influence quieted.  Her laughter no longer filling our home.  No more shared secrets at bedtime, tender hugs from her warm arms, or her soft hands quieting fidgeting knees in church. 

This chapter in my life will write itself into every sentence of who I am.  I have her hands and as I type I see them flying over the keys.  I catch glimpses of her in the mirror on days when I seem to need to be reminded of her most.  I have witnessed her tenderness watching my brothers play with their children. 

Forever with us in memory, she dances through the shadows of our past and today, like every 18th day of April for the last twenty eight years, I remember.  I remember her laugh, her smile, her voice, her singing, her ways, her love.