Back in July, when Mom had to go to the hospital by ambulance and was admitted (and never returned to her house again), I remember telling her that I was going to miss her and miss the richness of Becky.
It’s hard to explain what exactly you’ll miss when you know you’ll never see a loved one again on this side of heaven. There’s everything that you’ve experienced together and there’s everything that you would’ve shared had the person remained with you. You miss the way they made turkey sandwiches with luncheon meat and would slice green olives to go inside too. But you also miss the way they would peer over the top of their reading glasses just as they’re settled across from you at the breakfast table and you ask them a question to start the day. You miss the things that drove you mad about the person – because, let’s be honest, everyone has annoying qualities – but you also miss the things that were so endearing and were a huge part of the sweetness and gentleness of your Mom.
Mom was a wonderful listener and a thoughtful responder. She shared stories and advice and ideas like a plate of meringues offered to you while drinking a cup of tea. She was not a perfect person, but the loveliness and spunk and soundness of who she was comprised a beauty and richness that I will never forget.