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I read some of her writings & they're AMAZING!
This Writing was inspired by a TRUE story. #AR
I give you........
"Lord - help us"
"My sister. "
"Such a young mother"
Each with their own connection to loss. Each with their own process of grief. All with a sense of something missing All of one community. A community of musicians mourning.
The more a person is loved, the more people affected by their loss. The more people try to keep the spirit of a lost soul alive inside themselves, inside their world. The more intensity they shine upon the great person they knew, they loved. These were the people who loved me. The ones she left behind.
I was told as a young girl that my mother was amazing. Her love for me and for others was huge. So huge that the whole musical community I grew up in mourned her loss a long time. I still cannot talk to dad about her without seeing tears build in his eyes. He says they are because of how much his heart is still filled by the love she left behind.
I was her Lyric. The words she lived by, her ultimate joy.
Only I remember little of her - but from the stories I was raised to hear - I know she was amazing. I know I was lucky to have her - even if her light went out far too soon.
I was never let to feel her loss. I felt the emptiness sometimes - I grieved her.. but no one ever let me think I was without her in my life. They reminded me of her, they told me of her, and in a way - she was able to keep loving me and raising me - because they honored her so much. They made sure I would know her, not just of her, not just the stories - but her soul. That I would know and remember her soul.
There was a moment in my life when this tragedy could have made me a victim of horrid circumstances. There was a moment in my life I could have fallen into the tragedy. But they didn't let me. They instead reminded me of her strength and her love. They reminded me in order to honor her I needed to do well. They reminded me of her immense love. No one could fill her shoes - but each took on a task to make me less aware of what was missing. My life was celebrated as she would have celebrated it. Her life was celebrated each day. I was allowed to mourn, but encouraged to embrace the happiness she filled our lives with.
They could have ignored her, they could have tried to make me forget or make it a topic that wasn't to be spoken of. No one ever did. Every single soul she touched - were touched so lovingly that they felt obligated to tell me of her powerful inner beauty. Maybe I should have felt robbed of that, I mean I was. I should have had her longer. But, even if I would have ever thought that - no one ever gave me the chance to feel she was missing. Her soul was in the room. Her love was in their souls.
Her final moments were tragic, yet she remained with us all. Lights that shine this bright - rarely fade into the night, the darkness of death. Not when she lived inside so many people. Not when they wanted so badly to make sure I felt every moment of love and joy they shared with her. I don't remember her laugh, but I know it.
She's hasn't told me so for many years now - but I know she is proud of me. I know it, because I am living the life she was robbed. I am loving every moment I am given, and doting on my children as she doted on me. As she intended on continuing to dote on me. When I hold my child I sometimes feel her again. Holding me, kissing my cheek. Telling me she loves me and wishing me amazing dreams.
I've never been alone mom. I am safe. I am happy. I am well. Where ever you are mom, I love you.
In loving memory of a young mother - lost far too soon.
Photo Courtesy of Bryon Malik