The genius of the beauty of the stars
Is not the stars;
But is the space
That stands behind like black velvet,
Showcasing the stars
Like scattered diamonds.
That each brilliant shard
Must for a moment glow,
Then fade to black,
To become the background-
Of the birth of another star.
I wonder why I didn't ask you how to make biscuits, how to give piano lessons, where you ran to when all four kids under five years were grumpy at the same time, how you could stand to make dinner every single night for 20+ years with a smile, what it was like to be a young wife and a young mother, what you thought of Chad when we were dating, and how it felt to be looking at earth and heaven at the same time. I wonder why I didn't record your voice singing familiar songs, why I didn't write down all the recipes you never wrote down, why I didn't take more pictures of you, and why I didn't tell you every day in those last months how very, very much I love you. There are always regrets.
However, even more reassuring to me is this: that your girls (myself included) spent late nights in your room talking about silly and important things alike, that you were home every day when we walked into the house to hear our latest news, that (hopefully) you never doubted how much we liked to have you along for firesides/meetings/activities because you were always there with us, that I knew you were the most wonderful mother I could have been given, and that I told you I loved you often enough that--despite missed opportunities--you already knew it. I am grateful that we knew enough to appreciate you and Dad, even as difficult teenagers; that our relationship was one of love. It is comforting to know the peace far outweighs the regret.
And I'm sure you know now, with the privilege of keeping a heavenly eye on us, how much more I miss you now--when I'm in the ER with my crazy child; in my disbelieving of your equanimity with seven when sometimes one is enough to send me over the edge; and when I ponder upcoming baby blessings, home projects and stressful parenting days. I begin to realize that there's a never-ending list of questions I didn't know I'd want to ask you. But I remember watching you, and I find countless lessons of wisdom in the memories. So Happy Birthday to my immortal mother--to one of the very brightest stars to fill my sky! And if I shine at all, it is because you are my background!