Thirteen months ago today, my family lost our mother. I went yesterday to place pale yellow roses and lilies of the valley at her crypt. They were silk flowers, as I have been putting on since her passing. The reason I put silk is because they never die. They don't require water to live. Love never dies. So, I was hoping to bring home the St. Patrick's Day bouquet I made of green and white carnations but they were gone. I found that strange since the beautiful bright purple flowers with the gorgeous purple and gold bow was still there. I had placed those for her birthday of February 3rd. Puzzling. I hope the Easter flowers stay put. It is hard to imagine so many months have gone by without our mother. She was our anchor and our rock. If she isn't an angel then nobody stands even a remote chance of being one. I have never seen someone so devoted to God in all my life. I find comfort in knowing last year she spent her first Easter with Jesus, her first Mother's Day with Jesus and her mother, Willa Blanche Miles, her first Father's Day with her father, Howard Pearson Miles, and Thanksgiving and Christmas with all those of her family who passed before her, plus the many friends, church brothers and sisters, and so many more.  While our hearts remain broken down here on earth, I know Mother's is carefree and happy. She deserves that and much more. I wish I could feel better about all that. Maybe it's selfish. It's hard to let go. I don't know that I ever will be able to.