You are part of my flesh,
You are part of my soul.
My every breath
Was in your control.
You gave me life,
When you gave me birth.
I was your child,
Even though,
It was just for a little while.
You held me close,
Against your breasts
And I could feel
Your sweet and soft caress.
I felt your love
When you were there,
And when you left
It was hard to bear.
One day I’ll see you once again,
It may just be around the bend.
Until we meet
Just hold my place,
I’ll walk with you in Heaven’s Grace.

Mom could it be that you are protecting us from some great danger.

Are we looking at our existence in the wrong prospective?

Why did life throw us this curve ball?

“Love you mom!”

Take care, your son,

Dennis.

Mom today seems to be one of those days when I wish that you were here to give me some parental advice. I would look to you as someone wise with all the right answers. Do I just sit back and let them live their own lives and make their own choices, even though I know that the choices they are making are the wrong ones. When I try to intervene, they shun me and give me the silent treatment. Don’t they realize that I only have their best interest at heart? I would never do anything to harm them; I just want them to get along. When I voice this, it’s as though I’ve put a dagger through their hearts.
Mother…what would you have told me to do?
I know, you would have told me to stand back and let them make their own choices in life. And reminded me that
God has a plan for them.

Rebecca has another daughter by the name of Sandy who died in her first year of life.
She is buried at the San Gabriel Mission. The last time I was there was when I was about ten or twelve. She has a small flat marker.

Rebecca
I wrote this piece below the other day to try explaining to everyone that we are here no matter what happens to the earth. I realize that the earth could explode and dust/and or vapor would be all that is left.
Whatever.
Some particle of life will be there. Some substance of our presence will be there. Saying that I thought about my mother and her presence on earth. Her physical presence has not been found or I am not aware of whoever knows of her presence on this planet but I realize this. She is here. She loved, lived and became a mother of three children that I am aware of. She was a sister in a family who say that are not aware of her present existence today. All that is left to me is speculation about her whereabouts. So I now I know that in a photo taken from space of this planet that my mothers dust or presence will be there. Her marble marker in life is here in these words and every photo of earth. Her life is in my substance and in my families. Life should have been better for her.
Rebecca
***
We are the dust as we are the body. I am going thru a phase where I understand words. This should have happened when I was sixteen years old. Well whatever if by some chance I'll be reincarnated as some minute particle on this planet of ours I want to be completely aware of my standing in life. When they take a photo of the earth from space to give us our weather and show us a nice snapshot of earth. We are there with all the animals and trees and rocks and sand. The water moves about in waves and our long lost and departed are there. Nothing has changed but time as it passes. We are there on earth, we exist, and we occupy our space in time. We can't seem to see our bodies or the soil beneath our feet but we know we are there. We are the dust as we are the body.
Rebecca
***
Do we as humans blunder into places where our mind has no business being? You know the place that keeps us up all night with worry and a chocolate high. The place where the heart races to undo the damage of lost sleep. How do we get back to the place where whatever we see is there? Do we have to count on our fingers about this little piggy? Are we getting closer to the point in time that sees the word before you and as you look away you see whatever you eyes see? Can we clearly see the puzzle? Are we there? Are we here? Are we at the place our scholars talk about? The answer is always yes at this time and no we are not in 1945 but we do understand that they were as aware as we are now.
Rebecca
***
We read poetry and sometimes a great novel. History and biographies pass along our paths. Sometimes we meet a human that is a novel, a human story, a biography, and a person with a life that is a story. Could it be that each one of us is indeed that great novel? We as individuals are cloaked in suspense and drama, veiled in insecurities and peaceful oblivion. We share what all great writers write about, we carry our novels in our souls as we walk into that great storeroom of good words. This is a nice thought.
Rebecca

This is a belated Happy Birthday Mom

My sister posted a nice thought to you and here is the link her post.
.........Click Here..........