Words she left behind
It was almost a year ago to the day that I took my Mother home to rest at Arlington National Cemetery. Like everything she did in her life, her death was unexpected. At that moment we surrender our loved ones to another realm, we do not see past the pain. Time does not heal wounds, it merely makes the edges a bit softer.
As the only daughter, it was left for me to sort through her possessions and in doing so I found a treasure. My Mother was a journal writer and I never knew that about her. I always assumed my love of writing came from my Father but no, it was her all along.
I have not yet read through her journals, but do think it’s time. They date back to her days in Nursing school and finish two weeks before her death. I almost feel like a voyeur into this woman’s private world on paper, yet think she is happy I have them. My Mother was a woman of strength, courage and lived life absolutely to the fullest. (My nickname for her is Daisy from “The Great Gatsby”.)
So now I will start at the beginning and compile a small book of her words for the children and grandchildren left behind. I am not certain what will be read, but one thing I do know is Daisy has made the edges that much softer.