The Gentle Goodbye

I fashioned this story for Friday Fictioneers from a Native American prayer my sister copied down for me while our mother was in hospice. It now hangs on the wall beside my writing desk. I find the words very gentle and soothing.

“When you need me, I’ll be there.”
“Where, Mama?”
“In a warm wind that blows your hair; the diamond glitter on snow.”
“But I want to touch you. Smell you. Give you kisses and hugs.”
“Oh, baby, you can. Feel me in a soft summer rain. Smell the earth. Listen to the whir of a thousand dove wings in circled flight. Look for me in each new dawn. And every brilliant sunset.”
“But where will you actually be, Mama? Where?”
“Oh, baby, I will be inside you, draped around your heart. Do not think of me as gone.”

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