Baa Baa Knit Stitch

It’s been a year since you went home to be with Dad.  I just wanted you to know that I’m ok down here.

I’m not going to say that things haven’t been really different.  I mean, there are still times when I reach for the phone to call you.  And I catch myself looking at the clock at 7:30 every night, because that was the time I’d normally check in.  And, I find that when I’m out with my besties, I have this little voice in the back of my head that says I need to get home to check on you. Then I remember that you’re all right… you’re with our Lord and with Dad and with Mamaw and Papaw and all your brothers and sisters.  From what you told me about all the times you and your brothers had when you were younger, I can only imagine that there’s quite a celebration going on.

You were always worried that I’d be alone… I’m not.  I married a good man, but you knew that. I’ve got a good church family, and I’ve got a circle of girlfriends who accept me for me and still love me for some reason.  And you were always worried about the house – it’s being taken care of… probably not as quickly as you would have liked, but our friends who helped take care of you are helping with that too. God sent me some good people, and I’m very thankful.  (And yes, I pay people who work for me – I know you were always worried about that too.)

Business is going well – be sure to tell Dad that. 🙂  I’m as busy as I want to be.

Richard and I are taking time for us now. We bought that little place in the mountains I had told you about, and we’ve spent some time fixing it up.  We know we’re going to enjoy spending some weekends there with the dog (and yes, she still bites me… and no, I still don’t like her chewing on me, and no, she’s not really hungry, she’s still just trolling for food, but I know if you were here you’d give her every bite off your plate).  I’ve gone off on a couple of stitching weekends with friends and one all by myself. I know you never liked for me to travel alone, but I’m really alright.  You and Dad taught me how to take care of myself.

So Mom, I miss you, and I miss Dad; I love you both, and you’re never far from my thoughts. I know that you’re well and whole and happy, and I know that I’ll see you again one day.  Do me a favor and stop by the Rainbow Bridge from time to time and give Oscar a belly rub and a chicken biscuit and tell him I love him too.

Thank you for the wonderful life you gave me.

Love,

Jean