IT hits you sometimes, and the strangest things will bring it on. And then all of the sudden, you are right there, a vessel of grief, as if time has completely stopped and you are right there again. That is what happened to me the other morning, as I poured coffee into my mother’s favorite coffee cup, like I had done hundreds of times before. Coffee was our tradition. Every time I visited, when I was ready to go, I would load up my car, then always come back inside for one last cup of coffee before left.
During that last of coffee, we would talk about all kinds of things – hopes, dreams, plans, thoughts, the drive, remembering to call when I got home. There was lots of laughter and advice, and just good old fashioned conversations.
And when I poured that cup of coffee the other morning, I was suddenly acutely aware of how much I missed those coffee conversations with my Mother, and how much I missed her, even after almost 5 years. And I cried, right there over and into her coffee cup.
And the moment was exquisite in its grief, because you can only miss that which you loved.