Dedication

Dear Momma,

I miss you each day and I'm lonely,
My heart just aches to the bone
My heart and soul went to Heaven with you
And I am so alone.

I search through your words so carefully
As if certain I'll find you there
Where I can reach out and pull you back
And leave my utter despair

Your physical presence I'm not ready to lose
Those arms that could hold pain away
The sound of your comforting voice
That gave me faith and joy each day.

You are the poetry and music in life
My courage, my comfort, my strength
I'll search for you from this moment on
Whatever my life's length.

With all my love, 

Regina

There is so much I want to say to you, questions that pull at my heart to have answered by you. Do you miss me? Us? Are you allowed to leave Heaven? Would you come back here to us, if you could? How can Heaven be Paradise to you, if we, who were the heart of your life on earth, are left behind, broken, empty and lost? Are you able to look down upon us and see our pain and understand the pain we feel? Did God ask you if you wanted to go or did He just take you against your knowledge or will? Did you hear a choir of angels singing and see a radiant light and decide that you wanted to go nearer to see what was happening and then was it too late to turn back from the gates of Heaven?

Are you truly happy, Momma? Free of pain and tears, experiencing only joy? Are there clocks and calendars in Heaven, do you know that you have been gone from us for nineteen days? Are there days and nights in Heaven? Are there plenty of pens and tablets in Heaven for you to do your writing? Are you helping God paint sunrises and sunsets? Does he have you rocking the babies in Heaven's nursery, just like you had hoped for in your poem, "Heaven?" Have you seen Diane, the baby you always remembered, wanted and miscarried? Have you had a chance to see and hold the other 5 children that you miscarried?

How is your mother, our beloved "Daddo", your father, and Joe, your stepfather? Have you seen all of your countless special dear friends; Regina, Edith, Diana, Lilly, Myrtle, Grace, Bella, Hazel, Helen, Christine, Lucy, Marion, May Del, Ninon, and so many others who held special places in your beautiful heart?

I've replayed that Christmas Eve so many times in my mind to see if there were clues, meanings hidden behind our joyful celebration. We have shared every Christmas Eve together for the 44 years of my life. We were all so happy. I had even picked out cameras and wrapped them for you and Daddy to give to Gwendolyn and John-Phillip and the cameras were fully equipped with batteries and film. The children, who have had no experience with cameras took priceless photos as great as any experienced photographer which would later show just how happy we were. You and I were hugging, kissing, holding hands, my last gifts on this earth to you were opened and in the background, all except one, the Limoge clown box which when you asked me to close, the clown broke off and I quickly placed it in my coat pocket so that you would hopefully not see. I know how much you love your happy clowns, one room of the house is devoted to them and so I could not let you see this broken one. Did you see it? I am almost sure not, but it worried me and I even told Ed that night as we drove off in the car how sad I was about the broken clown and how much I knew it would sadden you if you had seen it. We talked about turkey, stuffing and all of the wonderful pies that I was going to make and bring to your house the next day. Remember. I had even found your original copy of the Spry cookbook after having searched my house all year to find my copy without success. I found those recipes just three weekends ago and now I can't make those pies for you or make, give, or do anything with or for you.

I am so filled with all of the happy memories, times, hugs, kisses, laughs, talks, but I want more. I want to build new memories with you, have more hugs, talks, and laughs. I am not ready to let go of you. I know Momma that I would never be ready to let go of you. Not now; not 10 years from now or 10 from then. At least I'm honest in the saying.

We shared so much time together and conversation and love and I hold tightly to each treasured moment. One lifetime with you was not enough. You have far too much wisdom, love, talent and joy to give and share.

I believe as you said so many times, our's is not a wasteful God. Just as he preserves every grain of sand, he would never let the soul, heart, the mind, and the essence of a human being die or go to waste. I am sure you must be rocking and singing to the  children in God's nursery, checking on your Papa and Momma and telling them about your life on earth after they were gone. God has asked you to help paint sunsets and write the poetry for Heaven, I am sure.

I know He must be making use of your every gift and talent, for our's is not a wasteful God. Why did He take you? I guess He must have felt that Heaven needed you more although I can tell you that seems impossible for me to understand how.

If He won't let you leave, I guess He must feel that He needs you there more. I guess He feels that His work there is more important than your work here.

Maybe He does let you leave but not in any way that I can immediately recognize and see you. Maybe your soul can migrate to another person, friend or even a stranger who can give me a hug, a kind smile or an encouraging word that helps me to make it through another day. Maybe that is what our friends are or can do for us. God plants them in our life for now and for later when we really need them so that our loved ones in Heaven can still offer comfort, advice and joy to fill all of the empty, lonely, painful places in our hearts. Were you with me today, Momma, and did I just not see you because you do not resemble your earthly presence? Were you the stranger who saw me today who asked me if I was okay and gave me that Kleenex? Did your spirit run to her to help me? She told me that she had lost her grandmother a year ago and that the pain was still so great. I know Momma, how much you loved your grandmother and grandfather and just 3 weeks ago we were looking at their pictures and you had tears in your eyes. Was this a coincidence? I don't think so. And I'm sure that giving the children cameras equipped with batteries and film for their final Christmas present from you was not a coincidence. In the 44 Christmas Eves that we have shared, we never took photographs but we did that night. I am just as sure that it was no coincidence that when I picked up those photos from the camera shop that I had never been to, one final customer came through that door at closing with the last name, Bennett, spelled exactly the same way that your maiden name is spelled, with two N's and two T's!

The happy Christmas Eve, the photos, the Bennett who made it in just before closing at the camera shop and even the broken clown are all telling me that nothing must happen by coincidence. They occur too frequently in our daily paths of life and most certainly that final night, our wonderful Christmas Eve.

Can Momma leave Heaven? She is telling me that she leaves many times each day to see me, to help me -- through family, friends and even strangers along the way. But she must return to Heaven to put the babies down for their naps, and sing with the choir of angels and make the music and poetry for Heaven. You know, I am sure Momma that you must be here this very moment; that you directed me to write this piece because I had this heavy need and compulsion, stronger than I've ever known to clarify my thoughts and you know, Momma, you are right again. Writing is therapeutic. You always said you  needed to write. You know what Momma, so do I.

I love you and I know that you can hear me. I know that you can feel me for you are the other part of my heart and soul.