Dancin' Among the Angels

As per request, here's the poem I wrote and read for my mom's funeral four years ago. It does fit rather well with one of the pictures I found the other day!

I was never a serious poet, so um, yeah, beware!

                                               Dancin’ Among the Angels

We walked along the shoreline,

My hand held in yours.

I was your baby, your joy, your everything

We smiled as the sun set behind our silhouettes.

Mother, daughter, enjoying the beauty of the ocean,

My hand held in yours.

We walked into the sunny schoolroom,

My hand held in yours.

I was nervous, afraid, but you encouraged me on

        It was my first day of school; you were just as nervous as I.

        Mother, daughter, learning the world together,

My hand held in yours.

We walked along the newly-mowed lawn,

Your hand held in mine.

I once depended on you; you now depended on me too

        My graduation day—how you wanted to see me.

        Mother, daughter, guiding each other along the way

Your hand held in mine.

We sat in the shade of the trees at the hospital,

Your hand held in mine.

We made each other laugh as we talked and ate tacos

        You were in a wheelchair now, but your spirit still pranced.

        Mother, daughter, sharing lunch and sharing life

Your hand held in mine.

You walk along the shoreline, watching the sun sink behind the waves,

Your hand held in God’s.

You were my mother, my friend, my everything,

        You’re in heaven now—dancin’ among the angels

        Mother and daughter—I’ll miss you, but you haven’t left me

Your hand held in God’s.

           

                                                                                                -Laura Hardgrave 11/08/07

Happy Birthday, Mom

Today, 59 years ago, Lizette Mareanne Lonne was born, later to become Lizette Hardgrave in 1977, when she married Phillip Hardgrave. To her friends, she was Liz. She passed away four years ago.

I guess it's more common for people to remember the day of their loved ones' passing, but for my mother's story and my story, the date of her passing has little importance.

Her life is her importance--the people she touched, the lives she warmed, the beautiful memories she helped create. Her legacy is the world around us, and one that will not pass away.

She lives on in me, her daughter, and in every single friend and dear family member who knew her well and loved her for the kind and loving woman that she was.

In everything I do, and in everything I write, she's there, guiding me, like a northward star guiding a weary traveler.

Happy birthday, Mom. Your star's freakin' gorgeous tonight.