Happy Birthday, Mom

Today she would be 86. She died of lymphoma when she was only 69 - just a few years older than I am now.

I took care of her for several weeks before she was hospitalized for the last time. One night she asked me if there was a full moon. I told her there was and she asked me to help her to the window to see it. She could barely walk and was very frail - the sweet, chubby lady of my childhood had become so small I could almost carry her.

We stood at the window looking at the full moon for as long as she could stand and then I put her back to bed. It was the last full moon she would see.

Heather and I saw a crescent moon last night, the Cheshire Cat Moon, smiling down at us on the Winter Solstice, one of our holidays. Somehow I believe that the Methodist mother who raised me would not be upset with my spiritual path.

After all we did honor the Goddess together one night.

Happy Birthday, Mom.