I knew this day would come. I had no idea it would be so soon.
It still does not seem real. I keep thinking you'll walk through the basement door with bags in hand and stories about who you saw in town.
I told Perry the other day that I needed to get you down to the beach, at least one more time. You never wanted to step foot in the ocean, but you loved to watch the waves and walk along the sand, especially at night. And it had been so long since you'd seen the coast.
We once stayed at the Brown Hotel in Louisville, and you read every pamphlet, brochure and binder you could get your hands on in the room. Then you accidentally ordered a movie from the TV remote, and I had to call the front desk to cancel it. You were so embarrassed; you shouted, "Take this thing away from me!"
I watched you wander about Graceland and take in all things Elvis, one of your favorite singers. I found your admission ticket from that day in your purse, along with your laminated 1971 concert ticket stub. I'm so glad I was able to get you to Memphis.
I remember things growing up that you probably didn't realize. Like how you warmed my clothes up over the screen in front of the fireplace before school. Or when I was sick, you would tell me, "I wish it was me and not you."
I loved taking you to concerts and musicals. Watching you watch whatever was happening onstage was the best thing in the world. We sang every song of "Mamma Mia" together and sat in wonder at "Hair" -- wondering if they would go through with the nude scene and how we would react.
And where would we be without our shared passion for music? I grew up listening to the best stuff because of you: Blondie, ABBA, Elvis, The Beatles, Bon Jovi, Bruce Springsteen, John Mellencamp, Roy Orbison. I remember the day you came out of the house into the front yard, so excited, saying, "I found out who sings, 'I Won't Back Down', it's Tom Petty!" Hopefully, you've gotten his autograph by now.
You loved me and Perry so much. You were always giving us gifts year-round, odd and ends that you'd pick up here and there. You gave us things we didn't even realize we wanted or needed. And cards came in the mail throughout the year for Valentine's Day, Easter, Christmas and birthdays. Just to name a few.
You told people you didn't have grandkids; instead you had granddogs. You got such a kick out of Gizmo, Jack and Smoky, and insisted I didn't feed them enough. They were spoiled with treats and toys. Your face lit up when you saw them.
You painstakingly took care of Dad for nearly 45 years. It was a dirty job, but somebody had to do it. There were good times, and there were bad times. But there was love. I know this to be true. I saw it.
I wonder what it was like the moment you were reunited with Staci. I can't imagine how happy that must have made you after all of this time. I had 39 years with you; it is her turn now.
It's time for me to say goodbye and try to move on. The pain is deep, and I don't think I've even begun to explore the depths of it yet. But it was no surprise to me the many, many, many people who have said such nice things to say about you over the last few days.
You were the cool mom, the funny mom, the kind mom, the smart mom, the Jeep-driving mom, the CD playing mom, the dependable mom, the comforting mom...you were my mom. I love you.
"Would you know my name, If I saw you in heaven? Would it be the same, If I saw you in heaven? I must be strong and carry on, 'Cause I know I don't belong here in heaven."
"Oh, mirror in the sky, What is love? Can the child within my heart rise above? Can I sail through the changin' ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life?"
"Love me tender, love me sweet, never let me go, You have made my life complete and I love you so. Love me tender, love me sweet, all my dreams fulfilled, For my darling, I love you and I always will."
"And when the night is cloudy, There is still a light that shines on me, Shine until tomorrow, Let it be, I wake up to the sound of music, Mother Mary comes to me, Speaking words of wisdom, Let it be."
