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We Remember in Love

Rob's voice, deep and warm, from 3,000 miles away, sounded as close as the next room when I called him on Saturday. I told him that so many of my friends had been asking after him.  People know him well because I've written about him so often and he is such an important part of my life. 

As always, he managed to capture a moment so well in words that I could see it--Bruce pressing his rock solid little Staffordshire Bulldog body into a niche of Rob's, his furry eyebrows dancing in sequence above his eyes, half-moon whites showing, as he studied Rob. He put the phone close to Bruce so that I could hear  his snuffles, and then described his scent, a mixture of dog and new toy, that Rob inhaled with the obvious pleasure he takes in his small but mighty furry friend.

And then we talked about Mum, because it's almost exactly two years since she left us. To him I could say, "Do you think it's strange that I really haven't cried for Mum?" I always dreaded the day we would be parted, because we were to close. I couldn't imagine the grief I would feel, and yet, it hasn't been that way for me. I said, "It's kind of like we had so much when she was here, that she filled us all up, and this is just the in between time, a temporary break before we are together again in heaven."

Rob understood. He agreed, "We all had a little cry when she was dying, but we had the very best Belinda. Mum only ever thought of us, yes, we'll see her again--in heaven--if you like." It was Rob's nod to me. :)

So on March 6th she will especially be on my mind. Yes, there is the pressure of tears in my eyes as I think of her; not tears of sorrow, but love. I am so very grateful for her and she surrounds me in so many ways.

On Sunday after our family dinner, when we sat around relaxing together, I brought out a box with envelopes holding bits and pieces found among her things after she died; small scraps of paper fell into my lap. On them were Bible verses that had meant something to her; poems; recipes; old official documents; my Dutch Oma's passport; the footprints left behind of a good life. A life full of love.


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