I still want a Peanut Buster Parfait.

I am sitting here at my desk this morning crying like a little girl. Five years is a long time to get over something. And I thought I was over it, but as I looked back in my 2013 emails for the right picture that Dwight had taken back then, I began to read the subject lines of my old gratefuls, and I couldn’t help the tears….

I shall sing like my Mom sang to me.

Sing like Grandma is listening.

Take your seats, everyone.

Just a few more days.

When I am 48, I shall wear purple, and I will remember my Mom.

Silly bird sweaters are no longer silly to me.

• I miss my Mama.
• I miss her handwriting.
• I miss her hugs.
• I miss her, “DELmar”s.
• I miss her sticking out her tongue when she was teased.
• I miss her Sudoku puzzles with erase marks.
• I miss her pancakes for my little girls.
• I miss her leftovers in butter tubs.
• I miss her cardinals everywhere.
• I miss her potato soup, and her fried chicken, and her chocolate dessert.
• I miss her worn out slippers.
• I miss her used kleenexes in coat pockets.
• I miss her silly crafts for Women’s Missionary Society events and Gideons and baby showers.
• I miss her alto voice louder than everyone else’s.
• I miss her handing the phone over and saying, “Here, talk to your brother.”
• I miss her love of churros at Taco Johns.
• I miss the day Sam and I knocked on the door to the apartment, and we could hear the “stomp, stomp, stomp” of her feet from the recliner to the door, followed by her gruff “Get in here!” and breathtaking hugs and indescribable joy.
• I miss her indescribable joy…

• I miss her unconditional love.
• I miss going with her to Christian Women’s Club.
• I miss her “Woooo Hoooo”s at every Karissa and Katrina ballgame.
• I miss her stern face when Jarod or Adam or John or Rachel would say “fart” or laugh about it.
• I miss watching her hold her great grandchildren.
• I miss her fridge full of pictures on the outside and things that ought to be in the trash can on the inside.
• I miss her love of feeding the ducks and bread sacks full.
• I miss her full filing cabinets of every last piece of paper that needed a file folder.
• I miss her collection of toilet paper rolls for children’s church.
• I miss the horrible awful childhood memories of her spankings and yelling and embarrassments that were part of who she was – she was human and she taught me about being awful and being redeemable and being loved without condition.
• I miss the good and the not-so-good…

• I miss her love of birds and squirrels.
• I miss the way she loved Natia.
• I miss our love of Peanut Buster Parfaits.
• I miss her 22-times-used ZipLoc bags that no longer zipped, washed and hung over the faucet to dry.
• I miss her tomato sauce substitutions in the form of ketchup.
• I miss her love of the Royals and “Cheers” and grandchildren.
• I miss her “Our Daily Bread” readings at the breakfast table.
• I miss her crooked finger, an injury from helping us on one of our many moving days.
• I miss her lead foot on the brake.
• I miss the way she loved Delores and her sisters and Aunt Estalene.
• I miss her Christmas poems.
• I miss going to concerts with her.
• I miss the way she worried about all of us.
• I miss the way she loved with every ounce of her being.
• I miss her love that was like no other…

I miss telling her every last detail of what has happened in the last 5 years. She is still the first call I want to make. She is still in my address book. She is still so, so missed.