That crinkled, tired slip of paper with your handwriting on it caught my eye. The cherished proof of you preserved ... safely tucked under the sheet of glass on my desk. Between the fading blue ink and the bleeding cursive writing, the words are getting more difficult to decipher.
I slipped the note out from under its protective shield and like so many times before, I slowly snacked on each written word. I imagined you sitting propped up on your pillows, glasses sliding down your nose, lips pursed in concentration as you wrote out your lists, thoughts, or quotes that you wanted to remember. You would write it out twice -- the rough practice copy and then the "good" copy. You have no idea how grateful I am for that habit ... for now I have copies of precious notes you composed and gave away. More of you to hold on to.
I thought of you tonight Mom, like I do so very often at this time of night. And here is what you wrote to keep yourself focused and firmly planted in positive while you fought to live:
And so it is.
I affirm that the Love of God,
the indwelling Spirit,
is within me, right here, now.
Willingly I open myself to the free flow of Life
and I accept that I am guided and led
every step of the way.
I am quiet and I listen to the still, small voice within.
Joy, Harmony and Guidance are mine
today and every day.
And for that I give my thanks.
And so it is.