Thoughts Of My Mom At Passover

It’s Passover.  It’s been three months since I last saw you Mom.

There are days when I say, “Alright already, enough of this Ma, I want to see your face, I want to hear your voice, I want to feel your love”.  I still can’t conceive that I never will again.

And so it’s time to clean the mud off of the heels I wore the day I bade you goodbye.  I kept that mud on those heels because somehow it kept me closer to a time when I still had you.

You are so far away from me now, you are eons away.  Time takes on a different texture now, it is heavier than before.

My heart is a trunk full of gratitude for all that I have, and for all that you gave me.  I go on, I move on in life, I know what to do because you taught me so well, but I miss you.

It’s Passover and as I make the Matzoh balls for the soup, I hear you telling me that I make the best soup, that there is nothing like my soup.

We sit down for the Seder, it is a fine Seder, we sing, we laugh, we tell the story and have our four cups of wine.  But you’re not sitting next to me Mom, and I miss you.