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Tuesday, August 7, 2012


Dave's Mom who died this day one year ago, and my goddaughter Clara who died August 8, 2003.

Somehow it seems unfair that a bright Summer day should be filled with sadness and longing. But life seems to hand out these ironies to us on a regular basis. My mother-in-law was snatched away almost without warning although in truth she had had many spells where she blacked out and then didn't remember them. But she seemed to have many more years left and neither Dave nor myself could have conceived that our visit for her 90th birthday would be the last time we would see her alive.  Still, she had lived a full life and had the career she always wanted, the boy and girl she had dreamed of, and the love of family, friends, and colleagues.  Her life wasn't always a bed of roses, but she had such deep strength and always carried on.

Clara was also snatched away without much of any warning.  But instead of the full, rich life she should have had, she died the day she was to have emerged into this external world.  All the dreams, hopes, and plans her parents had, died with her.  All the hopes and dreams the rest of her family had, died that day.  All the hopes and plans of friends like myself, died that day too. Clara's death has no rhyme or reason, at least not that we can see or understand.

I miss Mom.  I miss being able to talk to her.  For a little while after my own mother died, I still had a mom to talk to.  Even though her memory was failing and she didn't remember most conversations, that was okay.  I was used to that with my mom's dementia and that of many people I have encountered at the Edmonton General. I long to have talks again with my moms.

I never got to have all those conversations that I imagined having with Clara as the years would pass by. That August day in 2003 I held her and loved her.  I will always love her and always long for what might have been, for what should have been. She visits me though--this year in particular so many times ladybugs have landed on my hand, arm, or clothes.  They are young ones and small, not large adults. I know it's her, saying hi to Auntie Dianne.

Roses from Mom's garden. For Mom and Clara, love always XOXOXOXOXO.


J. said...

Aw, thanks, Dianne. What a beautiful tribute to both of them. Much loved and very much missed.

For what it's worth, I think that we can still talk to them and they hear us.

Thinking of you and Dave...((HUGS))

Love to you, as always...♥

Brianne said...

How beautiful and fitting to remember your loved ones - the blooming rose with the small, barely opened buds. I hope that your loving memories bring you comfort on the anniversaries.


We know the feeling.

Dog Speed

Essex & Sherman

onecollie said...

(((( wrapping you with love & hugs ))))
xoxo ♥

Squishy said...

Losing a loved one, either someone who's lived here for 90+ years, or a baby who never has a life....we're all here to experience that pain and I believe it's for everyone's growth who is touched by it. Maybe more so for the child that never makes it. I am sorry for your losses and I always figure it will makes sense when we get to where they are. Bless you Dianne.