Ain't Nora

We buried Ain't Nora this past Saturday. She's probably sitting next to you right now. :) When she spoke at your funeral, I could hear the pain in her voice. It cut deep. I know she is happy now.

I remember how close you were with her and Ain't Betty. Every morning you'd talk to both of them on 3-way. It was how you began your day. (Keisha and I are just like the three of you in that way -- we talk every morning too. We learned from the best.)

When I heard that Ain't Nora had passed, I couldn't help imagining that she heard a phone ringing, and when she answered, you were on the line welcoming her home. I have a feeling she had been waiting for your call.

Easter Hats

Dotyn,
I haven't seen Easter hats in a store window since I was little... This reminded me of you so much. You wore your hats whenever you left the house. And you ALWAYS rocked them. Straight up, cocked to one side, large or small... Wow, I really miss you, Dotyn. I hope you're somewhere beautiful.

Thinking of you today. Happy Easter. I love you.

I only think of you on two occasions...

Dotyn,

The other night I had a dream about you. You were dressed in a beautiful black suit with a black hat, and your skin was smooth and healthy. You were practically glowing.

When you spoke, your voice was clear and strong. You said, "Erica, you're being selfish."

Even in death you're keeping me in line! That's so you. Never a bad time to set someone straight.

I'm lucky to have you watching over me. Day and night.

I love you!

Dotyn, you would love Jack. He's such a happy, sweet baby. And smart too! At seven months, he's already starting to feed himself and trying to walk on his own. I'm always telling him I love him. Sometimes I even say it the way you used to say it to me. Do you remember? "I looooooooooove YOU!" I can still hear your voice saying it. I loved you so much even then. And I knew you loved me. I never for a moment in my life doubted it. I still love you. And now for every hug and kiss I can no longer give to you, I give them to Jack. I'm passing your love along to him.

Still Grieving

Dotyn,

I'm not sure what I expected to feel by now... But somehow I'm not surprised. I think about you every day. It's always been that way, even before you passed. Sometimes it feels good to remember how you molded my life. How you inspired me and taught me about love and faith. How you would sing... How you would laugh...

And sometimes it weighs on my heart. In those moments all I want is to have your arms around me. Protecting me like you've always done. And I have a feeling that you still are... But sometimes it's not enough. I know my grief is selfish. You were in pain, you were tired, and you were ready to rest. Maybe one day I'll be ready to let go. Not let go to forget you. But let go to free myself of the pain of losing you. And when that happens, all I'll be left with is the joy of having known and loved you all my life.

It's Ironic...

I realized today the irony of writing to you through a blog. I don't think you ever used a computer in your life. I don't even know if you knew how to type. It's not something I thought to ask while you were still here. Just one of many questions I wish you were still around to answer, though...

Technology aside, your handwriting was always so neat and pretty... It seems writing by hand is becoming a dying art. Take this blog as example #1! I'll have to teach Jack the importance of penmanship one day. And when I do, I'm going to use your writing as an example of how to do it right.

Thank goodness for the little pieces of you left behind for me to pass on. No irony there. Just gratitude.

Happy New Year

Dotyn,

"I haven't talked to you since last year." If you were still here I would have called and said that to you today. It was our little joke.

Reality is that it's been almost 7 months since we last spoke. And even then you couldn't say much. I had come to visit you in the hospital before they put your trache in. I told you "I love you", and in a weak, hoarse voice you said it back. I knew you were in pain and I feared you were dying. I wanted to tell you that you didn't need to hold on for us. That we'd be ok. But I was afraid...

So, today begins a real year without you... I haven't talked to you since last year... And already it feels like it's been forever.