Rosemary J. Gwaltney
northern mountains, Idaho
Oh, honey, I know these three words were the last words your mother exclaimed, at the moment of her sudden death, sitting beside your daddy on a peaceful early June evening. I know how they haunt you. I remember your daddy telling us the next day in stunned disbelief, motionless, in the same chair he had been sitting in the night before - "she surely wasn't talking to me. I'm not God. She must have been calling God." He knew where her spirit was soaring to - the presence of God.
Even as we must wait, and she must sleep, her spirit is safe forever. We know, for we knew her faith. I'm so very sorry you had to lose her at such a young age - not even seventy.
I'm so sorry, my dearest. She was such a sweet mom. She loved me from twelve years old. And she loved you with a very special love that I could always sense.
I'm so sorry.
~ ~ ~
The spiritual wind that holds survivors aloft, plants the seeds from which bloom new hope ... R.J.G.