Dear Mom,
You may have left your tired and withered body today, but I feel you all around me.
You live on in the stained-glass mirror that reflects the morning light streaming in through the bathroom window. Your ability to take on and quickly master new art forms was remarkable.
You live on in my love for nuances of the English language, clean lines in architecture and furniture, and well-written books.
You live on in my disdain for illogical rules, inefficient procedures, and pointless societal expectations.
You live on in brother #1's guitar playing, brother #2's keen intelligence, and brother #3's love of music. The influences you've had, both genetic and otherwise, on each of us—and on each of your four grandchildren—are numerous and profound.
You were a child prodigy, a musical genius, and a crossword puzzle virtuoso. I will never forget how we wouldn't let you declare a win in Trivial Pursuit until you'd answered all six questions on your card correctly.
You live on in my belief that I can do anything.
I'm happy you don't live on in my kitchen, or at least I'd like to believe that. God love you, Mom, but your cooking was truly awful.
Mom you were, and are, one of a kind.
Love always,
Your daughter