Last evening, I finished the picture that I was drawing. It was a Winter scene of a farm house, barn, and horses. I have always thought that horses were graceful and beautiful, but I have always had difficulty drawing them. When I was in high school there was another student who drew horses marvelously. Whether she sketched them or painted them, they looked as though the horses would step off the pages.
One oil painting was so vivid and real I can remember it exactly. It was of three wild horses galloping across a desert shallow stream. A black horse, a white horse, and a chestnut in full stride with white water splashing up like diamonds in the sunshine. Judy was a true artist.
Yesterday I wrote about my wife. Today I am writing about my mom. She died exactly three years after my wife's passing, three years exactly. It was on the third anniversary of my wife's dying. A crazy coincidence wasn't it.
It has been eight years since I have said goodbye
or told you that I love you, and looked you in the eye.
How quickly those years have passed and how much you're missed.
How I long it has been to have you here to be hugged and kissed..
How I long ago we would sit and laugh, talk, and share memories.
Alzheimer's took that away from us, what a terrible disease,
long before your soul soared toward heavenly shores.
One day in that heavenly home, we shall meet of course,
and we will share those happy times again since you've gone ahead.
Friends and kin who've to those mansions already sped
with you I will meet at the wide open pearly gates.
We shall have new bodies in those eternal estates.
Perfect bodies that will be untouched by disease or time,
untouched by infirmities of sin, pain, or grime.
I love you Mom.
I just wrote these lines on the fly as the words came out.