Tuesday, March 11, 2014

Enid Latham 1926-2007

JOURNAL ENTRY FROM July 20, 2008. 

I was thinking about death. I thought about my Mom who had died exactly one year ago on this date. I wrestled with God and remembered. 


My maternal, matriarchal influence. . .
I miss you as the flowers might miss the rain.
A year has frittered away
And what do I have to show for it?
Cancer. . .and that's naught to behold.
Thankful that you did not see me like this
Selfishly wishing you did (so you could fix it like you used to fix everything)
Will I soon be with you?
Some days I ache for your hugs;
Your smiles;
Your poorly timed telephone calls
Your motherly words of wisdom;
I want to be with you
Yet I am torn.
I don't want to die yet. . .
God make me die to self for now.
When I think of you, Mom, I am reduced to a little girl again.
"You will always be my little girl," you would laugh.
Other days I cry, softly thanking God
That you are safe in the arms of Jesus.
Heaven is but a gateway.
I love you SO much Mom.
(And I miss you)

Psalm 23: Yea though I walk through the valley. . . (Your favourite!) 

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