Her name was AnnaBelle

Dear Mom,


I’m getting really good at not thinking about you.  In fact, sometimes I can go many days without remembering the fact that you’ve been gone now for over 25 years.


However, when I saw on the news that Natasha Richardson died the very same way you did, it shook me to the core.  I remember when you fell in your kitchen, and had a terrible headache that night. They sent you home from the ER, and the next day you lost your sense of taste.   On your next trip to the ER, they kept you and put you in ICU after discovering that hematoma at the base of your skull.  It wasn’t many days after that we lost you.


So, forgive me if I allow myself a little moment this morning to think about you. 


I miss your incredible sense of humor.

I miss the way you would pretend to be on sit-up number 50 in the living room when I would walk in.

I miss the way you would pee your pants from laughing so hard on the phone with your sister, Aunt Shirley.

I miss the smell of fresh baked sour dough bread on the counter.

I miss the way you always made me feel special, valuable, intelligent and strong.

Mostly, I just miss you.  


Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m thinking I need to go back to Starbucks today and let the girl at the drive-in window know the reason I was crying when I picked up my coffee yesterday.  I caught myself off-guard with some memories.