Mommy Paints the Sky

It was a Sunday, 28 years ago, when the announcement came that ripped a tear in my heart that has never stopped bleeding. Mom was 57 years young. Too young to die. The last 9 months of her life were filled with doctors, hospitals, and chemo treatments. I've never regretted that she didn't have to suffer one more day. I have a great peace about her forever. She loved God with all of her heart. It's the missing her that never goes away.

There are many days that the "missing" just rides along as a quiet passenger in my life, and then an important day arrives -- birthdays, anniversaries, births of grandbabies, graduations -- and those days roar across the screen of my life like a speeding train that won't be ignored, whipping up emotions that had idled. Then the "missing" is intense.

As the sky entertained us this evening, I was reminded of Danny Oertli's song, "Mommy Paints the Sky." His wife and high school sweetheart had died of a massive heart attack after battling cancer. She left behind a shattered husband and two preschool children. Months later when the Colorado sky lit-up as he sat in their minivan with his two small children, his daughter asked, "Daddy, did mommy paint the sky?" Later Danny turned that into a song and also a book that tells their story.

Tonight I was sure that mommy paints the sky.

Good night from Southern California.
Rosie (& Mr. Fun), aka Carol

P.S. I've written the story of Mom on previous blips: here and here.