My mom and I would often talk about death.
We had our theories about what happens after we take the final dirt nap, but we would come to the same conclusion.
We don’t know.
The one thing she had, that I didn’t at the time, is hope.
Hope that there is something after, and perhaps the kindred spirits that we meet in this lifetime we’ll meet again. She wanted to be with her parents.
I can picture her as a little girl, walking through an open green field with hillsides sprawling with wildflowers in every direction. My grandparents are both holding each of her hands. They walk in the direction of a beautiful sunset to some uncharted path.
I have started to hope.
Continue reading “First Words”
