My mother passed away this morning. It was a beautiful, sunny morning and there are trees and grass and shrubbery outside the window of her room. The sky is lovely and blue, with just a hint of high, wispy clouds.
I wasn't there. I had to work and I'm still at work. There are men nine hundred feet up a tall tower counting on me to run the elevator and make sure the transmitters are turned down low enough to keep them safe. There isn't anyone else to do this job. But I know the window blinds were set to allow light in when I saw her last night, and I'm sure the sunlight lit her way onward to that land from which none of us return.
It's impossible to thank your mother for the daunting task she took on in getting you to adulthood as intact as possible; or in keeping you going once you were on your own. It's too big for any conventional thanks. All you can do is go on and try to be as good as your Mom thought you were.
He Worked On A Starship
1 month ago