One year...

...and I can still feel her hands. They were warm til the end... but so frail. The hands that dressed me as a child. The hands that rolled dough to make Dad his favourite apple pie. The hands that wrote thoughtful notes in that handwriting of hers that was always so neat and even. The hands that craddled my daughter while she rocked her to sleep and held her for hours, rubbing my baby's back. The hands that comforted so many people as they struggled with loss, poverty, and all forms of hardships we are made to endure as we make our way through life. I can still see her lying on that bed with Pepe the parrot tucked in with her (he now sleeps with Chicklet every night). I hear her breathe... that's how I measured if it was going to be a good day or if she was going to be in a lot of pain. I remember the feel of the chair at the end of her bed. The chair I slept in every night in case she needed something, to be there to help the orderlies on the night shift when came time to change her and shift her to the other side. I remember... My mother was my safe harbor... she comforted me when I was sick with Chicken pox and had to stay home while I could hear my friends playing outside. She was my rock when I thought maybe something was wrong with my baby's precious heart. She stood by me when my marriage fell apart. I still need her. I still miss her. I posted this song the night my mother joined the ranks of the angels... it's a song for her, for me, for my daughter.