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9:39 a.m. - 2010-11-09
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It's hard, with my finite mind, to imagine her surroundings. I know she is with God, with my Dad, with her parents. I know it is beyond my most feverish imaginings. I know she is safe. What I don't know is ... can she see me, know my heart? Does she hear the perfect straight line and want to jump in, but find herself with no human voice? Does she see me, home from the flea market, brandishing some wonderful treasure and long to say "Boy, they really saw YOU coming!"? Does she watch me cry and want to remind me that "life is for the living"? Does she hold me dear? Does she forgive me for horrible choices I had to make, there at the end? Does she understand? Does she long to watch just one more episode of Little House? Sing one more round of "I love you ...yes I do ... I love you ... it's a sin to tell a lie ..."? What is she doing, there in Paradise? Is she dancing with her soldier in her polka dot dress? Is she reminding God about my one tantrum, at two? Is she wanting to tell me that there was nothing to be afraid of, after all? Is she free among colors so vivid I can't conceive? Is she loved beyond measure? Is she glad the ice bag sits, unused, on the kitchen sink? Is her soul irridescent and can she fly? Will she be there when I call, as she called her own mother?

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