Maybe just try not to sneak up on me...

Dotyn,

Ever since you passed, I've been a lot more... let's call it "aware"... whenever I find myself alone in the dark. The feeling was much stronger in the weeks following your death, but now even though I'm in a more rational place, it hasn't fully gone away.

I wonder constantly, if I were to see your apparition, would I be happy or afraid? Maybe just surprised.

You're so deeply imbedded in my heart, I guess it shouldn't come as a surprise that I feel you with me  everywhere I go, though...

Just one request if you decide you want to stop by and say hi: any time is welcome, but daylight visiting hours are preferred.

I baked you a cake

Dotyn,

It took me a little longer than I planned, but here it is. I got a little choked up mixing the batter.

I was scraping the side of the bowl, and suddenly remembered how, when we Keisha and I were younger, you would take over mixing when the batter got too heavy for us.

I made it with love. This recipe is a priceless gift from you. I hope it makes you proud.

Coming for a visit.

Dotyn,
As I type this, I'm on my way to visit your body. It's strange for me to think about, because I know you - the person I love and miss - are not there.

So why do people visit graves? I guess I'm going because its the only place I can think of to go. It is Mother's Day weekend, after all. Maybe I'm hoping that a glimmer of your spirit remains with your body. Waiting to console and reassure anyone who comes to visit. Well here I come.

Happy Birthday

Dear Dotyn,

Today would have been your 79th birthday. I guess that makes it your first birthday in heaven...

I've been thinking about you more than usual, and I've decided to bake you a cake. A caramel cake. Your cake - your mother's recipe - it is my tribute to you. I hope, wherever you are, you like it.

Happy birthday, Dotyn. I love you.

May 9th

It's the middle of the night and I'm listening to a thunderstorm thinking of you. You always told us to stay off the phone during storms. I wonder if blogging from a cell phone counts.

Two days from now will mark your birthday, as well as Jack's tenth month. I didn't expect to cry, but here I am typing through tears.

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.