March 13th 1954
I managed to make it though most of the day without losing it. I must have written the date about 130 times today if not more, and every time I would stare at it and feel a little piece of my heart break every time. I should have been made a phone call this morning to say "happy birthday Momma". She would have been 54 today. Once I got home from work and allowed myself to think about it, the feeling of loss hit me harder than it has in a couple of years. I wrote this for her about a year ago...
I'm still here,
loving you, missing you
wanting to hear your voice
to see your face,
it's been so long and yet still
the memory is clear
of the day you went away
the last time I could hold your hand
comforted by it's warmth
now my fingers only trace
your name and a rose
in cold stone
longing to talk with you
of the Joys of life
share my inner pain
knowing that you love me
but yet the dawn
arises once again
without you
you used to call me
your angel
grant me wings
to just once more
gaze upon your face
that my heart might not
break upon memories of you
lost and drifting with
only cold stone to talk to
yet I'm still here,
loving you, missing you
I'm still here,
loving you, missing you
wanting to hear your voice
to see your face,
it's been so long and yet still
the memory is clear
of the day you went away
the last time I could hold your hand
comforted by it's warmth
now my fingers only trace
your name and a rose
in cold stone
longing to talk with you
of the Joys of life
share my inner pain
knowing that you love me
but yet the dawn
arises once again
without you
you used to call me
your angel
grant me wings
to just once more
gaze upon your face
that my heart might not
break upon memories of you
lost and drifting with
only cold stone to talk to
yet I'm still here,
loving you, missing you