In Loving Memory of Carrol Lindsay Tronson

A very long two days ago, I held my mother's hand as she took her last breath.  It still hasn't sunk in.  I can't even believe I'm writing this.  I expect to see her walking around the corner at any moment, and both mornings I've awakened here, I swear I heard her clanking dishes in the kitchen to prepare yet another amazing breakfast for us all.  I don't think I will ever get over the impulse to call her when I need advice or when I need to complain about how life just isn't turning out the way I thought it would.  

I'm so emotionally tired but I can't really sleep.  So many images of her passing and of her life keep rolling through my mind like a slide show.  On the night she passed away, my daughter Ashlyn woke me up in the middle of the night calling, "Mom!" and I woke up and went to her.  About half way there, the horrible feeling of dread washed over me.  My mom was dead and I'd never be able to say "Mom" and have anyone respond.  At that moment, I wished I could forget, but just moments later, I felt panic that I might forget....her face, her eyes, her hands, phrases she'd often say, the feel of her soft skin.

I can't shake the wondering that she might be watching me now and laughing, most likely, but possibly disapproving of my actions or even my thoughts.  I know she loves me and I remind myself that she'd be the most understanding person in the world about anything I might be doing or thinking or feeling.  I'm so glad for that.  

Being here, in this great house, with my brothers and sister and dad is so good for us all.  I'm so glad we have so many... so many... happy memories of her.  In the hospital, as we said goodbye to her, my dad, in sobs, said "she really was one hell of a woman," and I couldn't have possibly agreed more.  She was beautiful, every fiber, inside and out.  She truly looked angelic and peaceful as we said goodbye to her for the last time.  She was a lady in every respect of the word.