Most of the times I write posts here on this blog with the clearest picture in my mind for who I am writing for. I can see you. I can see you sitting there. Reading me. And I search for the words, for the words I think you’d want to read.
And then sometimes I write post just so that I can go back and read it. Once, twice, it does not matter. I write the words for myself only, like someone else is writing them for me. I do this intentionally. I do this when I am writing about something I don’t fully understand.
One of those things I don’t fully understand yet is death. My mother is dying. I can’t ignore it. I am traveling tonight to my homeland to visit my mother. I want to see her for the last time and to say the final goodbye. This goodbye is a hard one. words are the starting point, the finish is in tears. After this goodbye things for me will never be the same.
My mother will be out of my sight, but she will never be out of my heart, I may not see her face, but I will always remember her smile, I will never hear her voice again but she will sometimes whisper in my ear, I am going to say goodbye to her and to tell her how much she really meant to me, and this time that will be forever.