I discovered this note written to self, now seven more years plus a few weeks ago. Mothers. My Mother. Who would we be without the wounding and the love? The Love. The Knowing. The Lineage.
Seven years and three hours ago, my mom took her last breath. And so, this evening I sat by the ocean and wrote her a letter. Just at the moment that I was getting so weepy that I couldn’t write, she came and sat next to me. She said ‘Hello Francie’, and I said ‘Hi Mom’, and we sat and looked at the ocean together. Then I said “Mom! There are probably dolphins out there!” And she said ‘Oh goody! But you know my eyes, I can’t see in this light’. And I said ‘Me too, I can’t ever see them, my eyes are worse that yours!’ And she said ‘It’s very good that we’re so good at pretending’ , and I said ‘Very very good’.