There will be Joy again soon.

Yes, there will always be a void where you stood.  No one can fill your shoes although all your granddaughters near me, help tremendously.
It's hard this year, mama. I imagine your greeting her with open arms and offering her a glass of tea. (Wouldn't it be a hoot to find out heaven is a southern place and there flows "tea," milk and honey)

When I was a little girl and I would be upset about something, you would brush my hair from my eyes, wipe my tears and say "wipe those tears and let's decide what you need to do." Then you would give me something to laugh out loud about. When I was older and I felt my heart was breaking, your answer changed because you knew I could handle it. "I'm sorry you are hurting, baby. Life is full of disappointments but it's also full of joy" that's what you always said.
Well mama, today without you here to prompt me but after a lifetime of teaching me well, I am looking for the joy. I remember your love and care and although it may bring a few tears, it will also provide great joy.

Mothers days you ran from before day break until sunset because it was memorial at church, Liberty Baptist. You had food to cook for pot luck at the church, flowers to prepare to place on the graves of your loved ones gone on before you. Early, you had the boys fill the car with flowers and it was brimming from stem to stern. There was only room for one to ride with you and help put them all out. I think, likely you were thinking of your mother, she died when you were only five.

I remember the smell of my room, the cool white eyelet bed cover you painstakingly mended when little worn spots appeared, then you freshened it with a gentle washing, ironed every crease and ruffle. You and I would just stand and look at it when you were finished as if it were a jewel in a crown. You would say something about "things were just things" but it does look pretty doesn't it?
For one who lost your mother so young, you mothered very well. But you had many mothers didn't you? Aunt Jim, Aunt Lura and Aunt Ola. There was also Maggie who wasn't related to us but lived down the road a bit. She helped mother you as well with stories and tales of her own children. You cared for her in her last days, even though she wasn't your mother. I remember she was always cold in that nursing home and you bought her a toboggan and she wore it all the time. Until she took her last breath. You mothered her too.

Today I can hear the sounds in my head of your Sunbeam going, the smell of  the iron as I press a shirt for daddy before church. The sounds of laughter and joy as the relatives pour into the fellowship hall one by one, for a meal together. All the amazing food we shared, hugs and love.
Today I can remember you with joy and that is my prayer for others who aren't quite there yet. One day, there will be joy again.
Thank you Jesus for giving me my mama. She was indeed a jewel.