My birth mom, Mary Caroline Link, it is hard to imagine her 80. I wish so much that I wasn't wondering, but holding her hand. My momma's hands. What would they feel like wrapped in mine? I would be able to be a much better daughter to her now that I am facing the age that she was when she left us. Only 51! Damn it! That is way too young, way too young. Her beauty left us way too soon! I didn't hold her hand enough, I didn't think I would ever not have it to hold on to. I learned way too young that life is not fair.
Her curly strawberry blond hair, her green eyes, her strong, but lovely features. I still hear her voice singing through mine now and then. Not too often, but when I do, I just want to hold it put it on pause, and listen for a while longer. It passes so quickly, and I wonder if I will get to hear it again.
I am not only remembering her soft hands, her grace, but the love of those that she loved, and loved her in return. In particular my Uncle Chuck. She was the love of his life. A bachelor, he never really ventured too far from her, from us. A free spirit, he roamed, but guaranteed on the 10th of December he called his Mary. After she passed away, he would call on one of his nieces or nephews, anything to be close to her. To hear some semblance of her spirit. He is gone now too. He departed from us this past spring. It was hard to see him suffer, to go. We made sure he had soft hands to hold.
Well, Uncle Chuck, you don't need to call us tonight, you are with her. Hold her hand, and if there is anyway that you can, let me know how soft it is. Tell her I sang you to sleep with Dougie, and let me hear the two of celebrate her being 80 today!
I will love you forever, and ever, and ever!
Little Lizzy
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