A Day of Sadness

I remember the bowl of wax fruit that every child who had been in your house had tasted and subsequently left bite marks in.
I remember your strained smile when we would do something particularly obnoxious and you were trying to be patient.
I remember the colourful buttons on your organ that begged to be pressed but were off limits
I remember playing in your backyard, on the see saw and singing 'Let's Go Fly A Kite!"
I remember your hair as wild and fizzy.
I remember you telling me to 'always colour in the same direction. It's neater that way.'
I remember the smooth, shiny skin stretched over the knuckle of your missing finger, and being completely weirded out by it as a child.
I remember your high energy and sometimes brash attitude.
I remember waiting to see you on TV on Good Friday every year - always with a big cheque for the Children's.
I remember your scratchy voice.
I remember you as a wealth of knowledge.

As you grew ill, my mind would bulk at the idea that the fragile lady before me was the same vivacious lady of my youth.

Today you went to a better place. You have your body back. You are happy and pain free.
But we will miss you here.