Warning... this is just an emotional detox... so there you have it.
Last week was my mom's birthday.
She died two years ago.
She was 40. She was beautiful.
Her name was Laura.
Every time I hear the name Laura I get sad.
When I see horses, eat sushi or see red hair I get really sad.
The last time I saw her alive she was joking about a gray hair that had popped up along her hairline. She made me find it because I didn't believe her. I loved her hair. For years I tried to dye my hair that color but it usually wound up a bizarre shade of eggplant. I didn't need red hair anyway. She owned it. She was brave, wild and her smile was contagious. I wasn't anything like her.
The last time I saw her at all was at her funeral.
Her boyfriend had crushed nearly every bone in her body with his car. Forensics said that he must have just kept backing over her. The funeral service had tried to reconstruct her face but I was staring at a stranger in the casket. As hard as they tried they couldn't put her back together again. She was wearing the dress she wore to my wedding. I searched for something familiar as I gazed at her. I felt the stares and heard the whispers behind me. Then I saw it.
That blasted gray hair.
All I felt was irony.
All I feel is irony.
Happy Birthday Mama.
I know you are keeping those angels plenty entertained:)