In memoriam

Lois Grace Elwell

December 2, 1921-March 4, 2007

I made Real Good & Lots Of Cookies in memory of you. They turned out crunchier than usual. I miss you. 

I never finish a cup of coffee and they say this reminds them of you.  I still don't take cream. I miss you.

I included you in my self portrait--your memory embedded in my identity. I see your face every night before I fall asleep. I miss you.

I only wear dresses and skirts now. Remember how we were so excited about my dress for the 8th Grade Dance? I miss you.

I might get a tattoo. Would you mind very much? I miss you.

I almost didn't make it. The pull to join you and Pop was almost too strong. I miss you. 

I always take my medication every night; unlike you, I do not hide it in cupboards and cookbooks. Maybe I should. I miss you. 

I am living in my own little flat now--my first cooky rental in the U-district. Wishing you could have seen it. I miss you. 

I can still sense the squeeze of your hand, a kiss on the cheek, your hug. Your touch lingers on my skin. I miss you.

I sang "His Eye Is On The Sparrow" with the gospel choir for a Martin Luther King Day prayer breakfast. You were constantly on my mind. I miss you. 

I wonder what you would say to me if you were still here. An "I love you" for sure. I miss you.

I feel the time between now and your passing stretching longer and longer. I am scared to lose the memories. I miss you.

I adopted your sisters as my second grandmas. They can't replace you but they're wonderful. I miss you.

 

I love when people call me "Loey." It makes me feel closer to you. I miss you. 

I miss you. I miss you. I love you.

I love you. I love you. I miss you.