Favoured Grace

Time passed far too quickly for me.

I want to see mom's face again,
The laugh wrinkles in the corners of her eyes,
The impish Irish grin that showed the little gap between her two front teeth,
The beautiful freckles I was so envious of.

I want to hear mom's voice again,
The soprano voice that sung around the house when I was little,
The laugh that got us all laughing with its contagiousness,
The voice calling out "Bingo!" even as recently as Christmastime.

I want to smell mom's flowery perfume again,
The cinnamon she used to boil on the stove,
The turpentine she used to clean her paint brushes,
The candles she would burn in the kitchen.

I want to taste mom's salmon patties one more time,
And her extra hard-boiled poached eggs on toast,
And her oatmeal with raisins, pecans & brown sugar,
As well as her lowfat Dr. MacDuggal's spaghetti sauce with turkey sausage.

I want to kiss mom's forehead once again,
And hold her hand in an attempt to comfort her,
And touch the sparse hair that was once plentiful on her head,
And smooth the wrinkles from her brows that had not yet turned completely grey.

I am grateful that I will be seeing mom again in heaven,
Because of her faith and my faith in God,
Who sent His Son to die for our sins,
And my fervent prayer is that you will be seeing mom again, too.