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Write to remember

Do you remember a time when you realized that an interest or passion went further back in your life than you thought. My sister teases that I never wanted to play with her because I wanted to be alone in my room writing. I remember it. My family’s voices beckoning me downstairs to watch TV with them and faintly hearing them through the complex voices of imagination and mystery that filled my head.

In fourth grade I wrote a book called The Mystical Rainbow.  I knew the moment I found it that my fascination with writing about healing and the esoteric path began a long time ago. So, it was no shock to me to discover that my love / obsession with the moon is nothing new either. I went through a ton of papers these past couple weeks as a part of my full moon detox. I may not have been ready for the full juice cleanse, but I was ready to clear out some clutter and make room for productivity in time for the new moon. I found a letter I had written one month to the day after my mother passed away.

11/06/06 Full Moon Momma

I dedicate this day to you and trying to fill myself with good and positive energy.

Your soul began to leave in the early morning hours of the full moon.  Maybe you made the full moon complete.

Maybe you are the moon you are the lotus you gave me life.

Perhaps it was a seed she planted in me on the very day she transcended. I realize I admire the moon as a mother, as a protectress, as the bearer of life and wisdom. A constant, yet morphing presence that never leaves.

I also realize that I don’t just write to heal, I write to remember:

It was about 9am and when I walked in you were wide awake. I walked over to you and saw that you had torn up your entire tissue box into little pieces that sat in your lap. I think you knew it was your last day. I remember talking with you outside in the car a few days prior, it was the last time you’d leave the hospital. You told me that the pain was so bad if you had a gun you’d shoot yourself. You told me how difficult it was to lose your independence and be treated like a child. You looked at me and said, thank you for loving me so much. As if I could have loved you any less! You were my everything. You fought so hard. You knew so much more than me and yet still let me believe I took care of you. Your were a true believer in me, my heart.

On my birthday we sat together in your hospital bed and held hands watching Deal or No Deal. It was one of your favorite shows and you watched it all the time before you were sick.

I said, mom, do you know what show we are watching? You said no.

I said, Deal or …

And you said … Bigger Deal?

You always made me laugh. You looked at me with your beautiful, tender, mother-love eyes and said, I wish your birthday could have been better.

Maybe you didn’t realize that I wouldn’t have asked for anything more than to be with you.

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