Mother's Day

   Emily died in the middle of winter, just as the new year began. She had struggled, fought against the inevitable, and finally gave up.  She wasn't afraid, she was tired.
  The loss of a child leaves a gaping hole in a mother's heart that may not be visible to anyone else, but casts a shadow on every aspect of life. In the spring, life had returned to what ever state normal would now be without Emily. Cooking and cleaning, laundry and shopping, work and church all fell into a routine.
  On Mother's Day, I was driving over backroads to work when I drove past two little handmade white wooden crosses stuck in the dirt by the side of the road. I had seen them as often as I drove by them.  Girls names, and dates that told me they were young when they died in this spot, were printed in black paint and stood out ...today, of all days.  I thought to myself, "Well, there are 2 mothers whose Mother's Day will never be the same... "
   Even as I thought about those mothers, and others who have experienced loss, it occurred to me that I was among them.  I was jolted as I realized that my Mother's Day would never be the same either!
   Suddenly a voice, Emily's voice, in her whispery, halting inflexion spoke clearly.  In my heart?  In the car?  Was it real?  I'm not sure, but it was her voice and her words, " Hap-py Moth-ers Day, Ma-Ma Bear."