We Have the Same Eyes, Lips....Like His...

I asked for her address a few months ago. I wrote down her new digits on a piece of paper which lay in some pile on my desk. I had good intentions of writing.

Writing a letter to reconnect.
Writing a letter to see how her new life in LA was going.
Writing to stay linked to a past I know so little about.
Writing, perhaps, to just say hi.

After all, we were related by blood. There’s something to that right?

Even if you don’t grow up in the same household.
Even if you have different mothers.

We have the same lips. Similar eyes. They look like his eyes and lips.

Over the years, I’ve scrutinized pictures of our father, me, her, looking for something. But truly not knowing what I’ve been looking for. Perhaps a sense of belonging.

A sense of family.
A sense of connected-ness.

The long Winter came and went, the tulips bloomed, the dogwood shed her pink buds, and now the poppies are blooming.

I didn’t write that letter.

And now it’s too late.

She has transitioned….passed on to the other side where letters are of no use. So now I’m doing my best to talk to her in my prayers, connect in a way we couldn’t in this physical form.

It happened so quickly.
Nine days from knowing she was in the ICU to her being on the other side, address-less.


We weren’t close, though she always had a tender spot in my heart. Family. Blood line. It counts, right?

I have no answers.

I spent the weekend going through old photos, looking for bread crumbs through my past to help me make sense of it all. Make sense of the twists and turns in life that have broken my heart open to grow bigger each time it’s smashed to smithereens.

The day after she died I wrote 10 people in my life and sent them photos. I have more to send. I don’t want to miss the opportunity to let them know they’ve been important parts of my tapestry.

That counts right? Letting people know you love them. Or have loved them to the best of your ability.

It’s all I know to do. Sweep up any mess I’ve made in my past. Forgive myself and others and move forward.

So she’s helped me write the letters to the ones who still have addresses.

I will miss you V. Miss the chance to reconnect here in this sphere. As they say,
“May you rest in PEACE.”